


Suspended In Light

by HalfShadows



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Avengers Family, Avengers Movie Night, Avengers Tower, BAMF Clint Barton, BAMF Natasha Romanov, Civil War Fix-It, Civil War Team Iron Man, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Clint Barton Is a Good Bro, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Nightmares, Oblivious Tony Stark, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Clint Barton, Protective Natasha Romanov, Protective Steve Rogers, Scars, Steve Needs a Hug, Team Bonding, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-06 03:50:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 27,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15186134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HalfShadows/pseuds/HalfShadows
Summary: “We made a lot of assumptions about each other, Tony. But knowing about someone doesn't equate to knowing them. And I desperately want to get to know you. The real you. With or without your suit.”“I’m not sure you’ll like what you see.” Tony walked around the counter and sat down next to Steve and the soldier turned so that they were facing each other.“Why don’t you let me decide that for myself.”“Should be a quick decision.”“Tony you don’t need to suffer in silence. I can help you.”“That’s my life: screaming without making a sound.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! This is my first fic so thanks for reading! It will be a bit of a slow burn as things are going to get worse before they get better so just hang in there. Please let me know what you think or any tips and advice! Thanks for reading!

“Fine.” Tony clenched his jaw and forced himself to nod along to Fury. Though the pirate didn’t know, Tony was just trying his best not to have a panic attack—he was sitting across the table from a man who was the fuel of his many nightmares. A man who Tony had last seen when he was being left to die, slowly and alone. A man who he had grown up worshipping. 

A man named Steve Rogers.

Tony stared into his lap and nodded along. He felt as if the SHEILD meeting room was closing in on him and he didn’t know what was being said, or who was being spoken to; he only knew that he wanted to get the hell out of there. Tony clenched his hand into a fist tightly and tried to focus on the pain that his fingernails caused as they drew blood. It was better than the feeling of Steve’s overwhelming presence surrounding him—suffocating him. All he could see was Steve’s shield pounding into his chest, a horror movie stuck on repeat.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he heard a voice break through his fog: “Tony?” He tried his best to latch onto it, to follow the voice back to its owner and into the present world. “Tony?” the voice questioned again, this time more insistent. 

He looked up and found himself eye to eye with Natasha, the rest of the room had been abandoned and they were the only two left. He blinked rapidly as he tried recall what was going on. You came here to meet about the avengers. Something about the Accords being fixed. A glance at his watch signaled that several hours had passed since he had first arrived at SHEILD. 

“Tony, why are you still here?” Nat’s face looked puzzled as she informed him, “The meeting ended hours ago…”

Tony slid into his usual façade quickly. “Just hiding from the paparazzi Nat, it’s not every day a playboy billionaire can get some down time.” He titled his head lazily in what he hoped was an endearing way, and gave her a suave grin to help sell the act.

But Natasha’s expression said she wasn’t buying it, and Tony truly had no way of knowing how long she had seen him in his pathetic state. He deflated, but tried to ward her off again: “I’m fine.”

No you’re not, his inner voice chided him. In fact, Tony was farther from fine than he had been in quite some time. He existed somewhere between a numb acceptance of all the pain he felt he deserved, and a gut-wrenching fury that he had not tried harder, done better, to protect the one’s he loved. 

His nights were plagued with terrifying nightmares and haunting memories while his days were filled with remorse and sadness that he was all alone. He quickly shoved down his selfish thoughts, but that’s not Nat’s burden to bear. 

“I’m fine, really.” He echoed, as if the repetition would somehow convince Natasha, and maybe even himself, that he was being genuine.

Nat looked at him with a piercing gaze. The spy was wearing an expression that held many emotions: pity, understanding, and something that said “If you don’t tell me what is going on right now, I will use every interrogation technique I know to get the truth from you.” 

Tony held her gaze defiantly for a moment before sighing in defeat; he was too tired to put up a real fight. She grinned in triumph and took a seat next to him. Crossing her legs she waited patiently for Tony to explain. 

He inhaled shakily, pulled off the pair of stylish sunglasses he was wearing and simply said: “I don’t know what happened.” He shrugged his shoulders like that-was-that and he had nothing else to offer. As if it was normal to lose all sense of reality and be imprisoned in the dark corners of his mind where his most excruciating memories tortured him. For him, it kind of was.

Nat looked at him with concern and finally spoke, “I’m not sure what happened either, you zoned out for a very long time.”

Tony shook his head, “No, I know what just happened.” He was frankly too familiar with the panic that came from being sabotaged by his own mind: “I saw Steve and had to focus on not having a full blown panic attack.” 

Natasha’s eyes widened in understanding. Nat had seen the way Steve and Tony looked at each other, and she knew that both men were struggling without the other—despite never admitting it. But she had also seen the way that Steve had fought Tony as if he were a complete stranger, and had seen the aftermath of Siberia. 

Still, she had been hopeful, “I had thought you two would be able to get over your differences since you both mean so much to each other.”

“I’ve been trying to get over him since the moment I met him, so I’m one step ahead of myself.” Tony paused, shocked by the truth in that statement. He powered on: “But since I put all of my energy into that, I don’t know what happened in the meeting at all…Though now that I think about it, I never really pay attention to this type of thing anyway, so I couldn’t have missed much.” Tony concluded with his signature lopsided grin. 

Nat rolled her eyes and gave a soft smile in return. Her gaze, however, held a certain sadness in it. “You did a good job of faking it, Stark. I’m not sure Steve would have gone along with all of this if he had known you weren’t aware of what you were agreeing to.”

Tony chuckled, “It’s a skill I picked up from countless Stark Industry board meetings—you just need a good pair of sunglasses.” Tony then realized what she had said about Steve. His face darkened. “And what exactly did I agree too?”

“Team bonding.”

“Shit.” Tony could sense what was coming next.

“You just agreed to the have the Avengers live at Stark Tower.” Her eyes narrowed, “Including Steve.”


	2. Pathetic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Iron Man gauntlet plays a role in this chapter so if any of you forgot what it is here is a link to the scene from Civil War it is in ft. a badass Tony Stark: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kDG2H0NZ3RU

Tony paced relentlessly back and forth across the floor of his workshop, he was a nervous wreck: eyes darting, heart constricting, sweat-stains growing. He had gone down there around midnight when it had been clear that his mind would not allow him to sleep. Tony had thought that if he were tinkering with something he would be less inclined to think about every possible thing that could go wrong when the so-called “team” moved into the tower that morning.

Despite his racing heart, Tony was thoroughly exhausted. It took a lot of effort to fend off his own minds relentless attacks. His thoughts were his worst enemy, trapping him in the horrors of his life. Tony had still yet to decide if it was better to not sleep at all, or sleep with nightmare plagued dreams.

Howard, Obie, the Chitauri. Steve. He silently cursed himself for adding Steve’s name to the list. But no matter how hard he tried to forgive Steve, no matter how much he wanted to mend their rocky friendship, his mind could not reconcile with his heart. _You can’t have him so stop longing._

Because that was what destroyed you in the end: the longing for something you could never have.

Tony’s pacing and bottomless thoughts came to a stop when he caught his reflection in the window. He was staring into the face of a stranger. Though his weight loss and pale complexion were shocking, his eyes were the scariest part. Once alive with a mischievous glint, the fire inside them was no longer alight. They had dulled from bright reflections of hope into wistful echoes of everything he had done wrong.

The last few months had been particularly rough on him: Pepper had left. She hadn’t been able to deal with Iron Man’s frequent close-calls. Apparently his “self-destructive tendencies” were not healthy for a relationship. So he had lost the one person he had learned to open up to, and, maybe even more damaging, the one person that had regularly reminded him to eat and sleep. Two things he did rarely these days.

He only really had Rhodey left, and he was always on tour with the military. Tony winced. Every time Tony thought of Rhodey he was reminded of the near fatal accident that had left him having to learn how to walk again. It was something he would never forget, how he had almost gotten his best friend killed.

Tony tore his gaze away. “Pathetic” he spit out with venom.

In the night, Tony’s loneliness crushed him, as if the sky itself had swooped down to smother him in its cold arms. Overwhelming loss seemed to follow Tony, and it had left him empty—a shell of someone who used to be. But beneath it all, Tony was a survivor, and he would never shatter completely, no matter how many cracks he collected.

He resumed his pacing.

Pepper, Jarvis, Steve—he had lost everyone he had needed the most in one way or another, and there was no way of getting any of them back. And though he wasn’t sure that he had ever had Steve to begin with, he had wanted to—oh, how he had wanted to.

As the morning crept on, the sun cast a pale glow into the workshop. Tony cursed at it. The light meant that he was getting closer and closer to having to slap on his billionaire-playboy façade for the benefit of others.

He checked his watch; 30 minutes until their arrival. _My watch!_  A rare smile flickered across his face.

Tony had an idea.

“Friday where did I put the Iron Man watch gauntlet?”

“I believe you threw it in an incinerator after it was damaged beyond repair, Boss.”

“Lovely” Tony muttered as he hastily pulled up the schematics. He glanced at a computer, 20 minutes until they arrived; probably not enough time to make the watch. But it was only 20 minutes until Steve arrived, and Tony desperately needed some form of protection—some way that he wouldn’t feel powerless in front of Steve.

So Tony lied to himself: “I’ve still got time."

~~~

Precisely 20 minutes later—because Steve prided himself on being punctual—he stepped out of the elevator and onto the common room floor with Nat and Clint. Friday had let them in per Tony’s request. He hadn’t wanted to keep the Captain waiting.

Steve looked around longingly. It was certainly a familiar space to all three of them. A place where they had shared laughs and drinks in a happier time when they had all been friends. Now, the space was empty and nothing was simple; the room weighed heavily on Steve.  
  
Like a blanket made of iron.

“No Tony” observed Clint, who had already made himself comfortable, pouring himself a drink behind the bar.

“I’m not surprised.” Steve scowled and shook his head. _Of course he wouldn’t give us a second of his precious time._ Steve felt a harsh gaze drill into him, and he looked around to see Natasha staring at him disapprovingly, as if she could hear his condescending thoughts.

Still staring into Steve’s soul, she spoke to Clint. “You’d better pour me a tall one, this is going to be a long day.”

Seconds later Tony burst into the room, “I’m here! I’m here!” he exclaimed. “Sorry I’m late for the family reunion, I got caught up in the shop.” Tony absent-mindedly fiddled with his freshly made watch. It was the only thing keeping him grounded in the moment, serving as reassurance that if Steve decided to attack him, he wouldn’t be completely helpless.

Steve eyes followed Tony perceptively as the mechanic walked all the way around the room to where Clint had just placed Nat’s drink. “For me, Hawk? You shouldn’t have!” His words dripped with ease and arrogance. “But since you are all technically my guests, I guess I’ll be nice and share with Nat.” He winked at her and slid the glass her way, no one the wiser that Tony had actually given up drinking in an attempt to fix himself.

Tony clapped Clint on the back and folded him into a hug. Soon they broke into laughter at something one of them whispered to the other, and it took them quite some time to regain any sense of composure. While Nat just laughed, Steve’s eyes narrowed at the embrace. _Why can’t it be that easy for us?_

Tony then made his way to over Nat. “Nice to see you again, Natalia.” He gave her another wink and a quick kiss on the cheek. Yet behind the lighthearted gesture Steve noticed something else flicker between them. It was as if they both had some understanding of the present situation that no one else did.

Steve couldn’t deny the pang of jealousy that hit him when he realized that he would get no warm embrace or kiss. W _hy are you surprised? He won’t even make eye contact with you._ The two stubborn men had rarely gotten along before, but it was like Tony was afraid of interacting with the soldier. It had been the same at the meeting with Fury the other day: Tony had acted like Steve wasn’t even there.

Well, if Tony wouldn’t start talking to Steve, he would start talking to Tony, “Thanks for letting us stay here, Stark” he tried. _Come on Steve,_  he mentally chided himself… _why do you sound like you’re talking to a stranger?_

“I – I mean we— we all missed this place.” Steve groaned inwardly at his awkwardness, but he offered up a tentative smile, trying to get one in return from Tony.

Yet all he got was a quick glance and nod from Tony before the man let his eyes drop. Steve’s own eyes followed in disappointment and landed on the watch that Tony was now fixated on. He was probably trying to show off a new invention.

“No problem, Cap.” Tony’s voice was distant. The room was plunged into a cold silence that felt like a living thing.

Shattering the silence, Clint clapped his hands and exclaimed: “Well this has been fun, but I’ve got better things to do!” And with that, the archer hopped onto the counter, shimmied up the wall, and disappeared into the vents that Tony had designed specifically for him.

The whole room felt lighter, everyone grateful for the change of focus.

Tony looked to Nat, “Each of your own floors are pretty much how you left them. I may have made a few changes and updates here and there.” He looked around nervously and quickly added, “but if you don’t like them I can fix it.”

Nat scoffed, “I’m sure whatever you did is great Tony.” She gave him a quick nod and told him, “I spoke with Banner and Thor about Fury’s orders, but their recovering from some type of game so they won’t be here for a while.”

Tony was intrigued, but he needed to escape the room that seemed to be growing smaller and smaller with each passing moment, so he just nodded and disappeared down the stairs.

Steve looked longingly after the other man’s disappearing figure. “He can barely look me in the eye, Nat.” Steve’s shoulders drooped and he walked to the window, gazing out at the vast city before him.

Nat walked over to him and placed a delicate hand on his shoulder; she stayed silent, letting him bounce his thoughts off of her.

“I think he actually walked around the entire room to get to Clint so that he could avoid walking by me.” They stood in silence, Steve surrounded by his own thoughts and desires.

Natasha’s question cut through his fog with an assassin’s precision: “What do you truly know about the guy?” Steve opened his mouth, but before he could get a word in Nat cut him off, “Besides the fact that he can be an arrogant ass sometimes.”

Steve paused, caught off guard. It was a long time before he replied again. “I know that I loved him. And now he is gone.”

Nat just shook her head at his use of past tense, Steve could be just as oblivious to his own feelings as Tony could. “Tony’s stronger than you think—he is stronger than he thinks. But sometimes loneness is a choice.” She paused, letting her wise words sink in. “You just have to convince him to choose otherwise.” And with that she slinked out of the room, leaving Steve to his thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be more Tony and Steve interaction the further we get into the story so don't worry! Thanks for reading and please leave your thoughts below!


	3. Coffee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Thanks for reading! I just wanted to add a little disclaimer that obviously none of these characters are mine, and also, I love to drop in some quotes and dialogue of my favorite books to see if anyone picks up on it. 
> 
> Please let me know what you think in the comments!

**“** Okay Boss, the coast is clear, Captain Rogers has been out of the building for 45 minutes on his run. You should be able to go upstairs and avoid meeting him for at least another half hour.”

 

Tony let out a sigh of relief, “Thanks Friday.” He knew that it was childish to be avoiding Steve (and borderline creepy since it involved keeping tabs on Steve’s location) but Tony had discovered that the less he saw Steve, the less scared he had to be.

 

So Tony had Friday help him with “Operation Avoid Steve” over the last week that they had all been in the tower, and it had worked surprisingly well—Friday would let Tony know if Steve was gone from a place Tony wanted to be, and she would give him an ETA on when Steve would get back.

 

Did Tony think it was a little pathetic that he couldn’t be in the same room as Steve? Maybe. But he knew that it was better than having a near panic attack every time he saw the man.

 

So Tony walked upstairs and joined Clint and Nat in a Steve-free room as they sat at the kitchen bar, fighting over the last bite of an omelet—their assassin reflexes being put to good use. Bruce, who had arrived with Thor yesterday, was also there, pouring himself an unhealthy amount of coffee.

 

Tony broke into a grin at the sight of his science buddy and began to do the same, “Good morning everyone!" He eyed Bruce’s coffee and set out pouring himself his own cup. “Ah coffee. The sweet balm by which we shall accomplish today’s tasks.”

 

Clint, who had won the battle against Natasha, and was chewing the omelet victoriously, shouted out, “Pour me a cup, would you?”

 

“Black?” Bruce questioned.

 

“Yep!”

 

“Like his soul” Nat finished, still bitter about losing the omelet. Tony was still smiling, it was moments like this that he got to enjoy so rarely as Steve was so often at the center of the group. Sure it was a lonely life, and he desperately wanted to learn how to get along with Steve, but Tony knew that Steve hated him, and he didn’t want to risk getting into another fight again.

 

And Steve wasn’t Tony’s only demon. In every group setting Tony was reminded of the vision Wanda had made him see—everyone dead because of Tony. It wasn’t something he needed to be reminded of frequently. So, Tony found himself hanging out with his friends less and less.

 

Tony took a huge gulp of coffee while Nat began an interrogation, “We haven’t seen you in a while Tony, are you doing okay? How have you been?”

 

Tony broke away from his thoughts and set his mug down. “As long as there is coffee in the world, how bad could things be?”

 

Nat just rolled her eyes. Though she was used to Tony never giving anyone real answers, it could still be irritating. “A real answer please” she demanded.

 

Tony grew sober, his eyes became serious and widened, “That was a real answer Nat.” He nodded slowly for emphasis. “You should never joke about something as serious as coffee. Ever.” Tony and Bruce stifled back a grin.

 

Clint finished his own cup and set it down with a bang. “How can you be so sarcastic and so right at the same time Tony?” He wasn’t hiding his own grin; Clint loved how Tony could get under Nat’s skin with his sarcastic comments and answers.

 

Tony shrugged and tried to look modest: “I’m just talented like that.” He poured more coffee into everyone’s cups and set out to make a fresh pot. As the others carried on the conversation Tony’s mind focused on his menial task, it was better than focusing on how tired the short interaction with his friends had made him.

 

Yes, Tony was having fun joking around with them all, but it took a lot of energy to pretend that he wasn’t exhausted from lack of sleep or weak from a diet based of coffee, granola bars and more coffee.

 

And every time Tony was with the team, he was always reminded of how they had all fought each other. He was always reminded of the way he had come home from Siberia to an empty tower, feeling abandoned by the ones he had loved the most.

 

No, Tony didn’t blame them for how he had felt, but the memory was seared into his mind.

 

Tony excused himself and made his way down to the lab. He was lost in his own thoughts when he bumped right into a sweat-soaked Steve Rogers—back early from his run.

 

“Jesus!” Steve exclaimed, just as startled as Tony. They both jumped back in surprise, though Tony did so with more commitment.

Tony’s heart was racing and his knees were wobbling, but somehow he managed to only look caught off guard—not terrified. _Really Steve? Of course you doesn’t follow your strict schedule the one time I need you to._ Still, Tony replied without missing a beat: “Not Jesus, Steve. Actually, it’s just me. Although I’ve been told the resemblance is startling.”

 

As Tony usually left the room whenever Steve entered, this was a rare and happy meeting for Steve, and he wanted to make it last as long as he could. He tried to give Tony some space, but he was so shocked at seeing him at all, that in doing so he tripped clumsily over his own feet.

 

Tony’s hands shot out to steady the super-soldier, surprising both himself and Steve. As soon as Steve was upright, Tony’s brain caught up to his body and he was scrambling away, trying to move quickly, but casually, towards the exit.

 

Steve called after him, “Thanks for the rescue, Tony”

 

“Everyone needs a hobby.” Tony shrugged and risked turning around now that he was at a safer distance from Steve. He could barely hear himself over the pounding of his own heart.

 

Clint decided to interrupt their awkward exchange, granting a small mercy to the two men who were dancing around each other on thin ice. “I thought your hobby was preening?!”

 

Toney flipped him the bird and a charming grin. “Two hobbies,” he conceded and then fled the room. Steve just looked at the others helplessly, they all shrugged and went back to their own tasks.

Steve was left alone with a decision to make: Follow Tony and demand to have a real conversation, or go another day wondering if they would ever mend their broken friendship.

 

Steve took a deep breath and made a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What will Steve's decision be? Who knows...


	4. Hatred

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for reading! I really like this confrontation, so I hope you all do as well. Please continue to let me know what you think in the comments, I love hearing people's thoughts, concerns, and advice. Enjoy!

Tony was back in his workshop, eyes closed and taking deep breaths; he was rattling off the Fibonacci sequence in a feeble attempt to calm his mind. Though he had practically sprinted away from Steve, Tony realized he could actually count the interaction as a win—Tony hadn’t had a flash back or anything.

 

It was a low bar to have set, but a small victory was a victory nonetheless.

 

“Boss, Steve is coming your way, should I initiate a lockdown protocol?” And just like that, all the time that Tony had spent steadying his breathing was for nothing. His breath returned to rapid and shallow intakes.

 

He croaked out a yes and Friday locked all of the workshop doors just as Steve came into view, _Looking as perfect as ever,_ Tony thought. He slapped on a carefree smile and pretended to be surprised at Steve’s presence. He was already feeling calmer now that he knew Steve could only come in if Tony allowed it. “I wonder what he wants” Tony muttered, his curiosity peaking.

 

Steve rapped his knuckles on the glass door. “Patch him through, Friday.”

 

Steve’s voice crackled over the sound system, making Steve sound like he was right next to tony. “Uh, hi Tony.” Steve sounded unsure of himself, “Can I talk to you?”

Tony got up and walked slowly to the glass door. He stopped a few feet away and locked his eyes with Steve’s. “Sure thing, Cap.” His words sounded more lighthearted than his thoughts.

 

When it was clear that Tony wasn’t going to open the door, Steve’s whole persona slumped as a wave of sadness overtook him. _What happened to him that he feels the need to hide away all the time?_ Instead of asking Tony that, he simply said,“Can you do something for me?”

 

Tony was taken aback at the request, but decided to play it safe with some sarcasm—his usual first line of defense. “I usually don’t do what I’m told, but I might do what you want if you ask nicely.” He plastered on a grin to hide his true emotions.

 

Steve noticed Tony’s smile, that had come out as more of a grimace, and the effort that went behind it _. A fake smile, but he is beautiful nonetheless._ Steve offered a weak smile in return and asked Tony something he was desperate to know: “Can you tell me that you’re okay? Honestly?”

 

 _No_ Tony thought. “Yes.” Tony answered. As if things were that simple.

 

Steve just stared at Tony, his eyes held sad disbelief. Tony sighed and threw his hands out in exasperation. “I’m fine Steve. Nothing here is out of the ordinary: I work too much, I sleep too little. I invent and I repeat. Nothing I haven’t been doing for years.”

 

Steve’s eyes narrowed, trying to discern if Tony was being sincere. “I can’t tell if you’re lying or joking.”

 

“And I can’t tell if you’re an idiot or an idiot.”

 

Steve wasn’t amused."Does it get tiring?"

  
"What?"

  
"Always thinking you're right."

  
Tony smiled. "No, not really. It's other people not realizing I'm right that gets tiring.” 

 

Their words hung in the air heavily, despite the seemingly light banter. Each man was surrounded by a fog of emotions, each too stubborn to give in and just say how they felt.

 

Instead, Tony sought something else. “It’s my turn to ask a question, Cap.”

 

Before Steve could reply Tony was already speaking, “Why didn’t you tell me?” He didn’t have to tell Steve he was talking about his parent’s death.

 

“I didn’t want to hurt you.” Steve looked ashamed, as if he was admitting a weakness. “I needed to protect you.”

 

“Better terrible truths than kind lies.” Tony shot back quickly, but Steve only nodded slowly, avoiding Tony’s hard gaze. His response made Tony feel bad for Steve.

 

If anyone knew how trying to protect people could lead to damage, it was Tony.

 

A charged silence encompassed the both of them. They both studied one another while avoiding making eye contact. Each man trying to figure out what the other wanted. Each man not knowing what they wanted themselves.

 

Steve’s eyes had fallen. _He looks like a wounded puppy,_ Tony thought. _I should put him out of his misery._ Tony granted Steve some pity: “I don't hate you."

  
Steve’s head snapped up, relief flooding his expression. "You have no idea how much I needed to hear that—"

  
"I wish I could hate you," Tony interrupted. His voice was light for what he was saying, his mouth curved in an unconcerned half grimace, his eyes sick with misery. "I want to hate you. I try to hate you. It would be so much easier if I did hate you. Sometimes I think I do hate you and then I see you and I—"

  
Steve’s hands had grown numb with their grip on the hem of his shirt. "And you what?"

  
"What do you think?" Tony shook his head. “I can’t forget our past. And I can’t look at you without remembering everything. Every time I’m with you it's like banging my head on awall, except at least if I were banging my head on a wall, I'd be able to make myself stop."

  
Steve's lips trembled so violently that he found it hard to speak. "Do you think it's easy for me?" he demanded.

 

Tony cut him off before he could continue: “Easy for you?” his exasperation grew. “Because of you, I can’t trust the people I care about not to hurt me.” His voice dropped in volume: “And I’m not sure I can trust myself not to hurt them, either.”

 

Steve’s eyes widened. “I never knew.”

 

But Tony was turning away. _How could you know? You abandoned me._ “Steve, I think it’s time for you to go. Let’s just stay out of each other’s way. It will be easier for everyone.” His heart broke a little more with each word, solitude filling each crack.

 

_I fear being alone more than anything else. So why do I do this? Why do I push away the people I love? What is so very wrong with me?_

 

Steve wouldn’t give up that easily. “Since I've met you, everything I've done has been in part because of you. I can't untie myself from you, Tony—not my heart or my blood or my mind or any other part of me. And I don't want to.”

 

Tony almost broke down right there. _I don’t want you to either, Steve._ He wanted to cry out “ _Help me Steve.”_ He wanted to scream, “ _Don’t let me do this to myself.”_ Tony turned so that he was facing Steve, trying to speak words that wouldn’t come.

Because Tony had only been hurt every time he opened his heart to someone. The only way to survive, was to erase his emotions. So he folded them away, one by one. His sorrow turned to anger and then to ice-cold fury. His soul curled in on itself. He was gone. He was truly gone.

 

“You had no problem leaving me behind before, Steve.”

 

Steve flinched. “I know I screwed up Tony. But I thought I was doing what was right.” His words were coming quickly now, frantically searching for a way in to Tony’s heart. “I really thought I was doing the right thing, Tony. You’ve got to believe me.” He was practically begging now. “And I may have been blind to any type of compromise, but—"

 

“May have?” Tony asked incredulously, voice rising in frustration. “I tried to talk to you! I tried to help you!” He took a deep breath and lowered his volume. “We were supposed to protect people—together. We were supposed to have each other’s backs. And you threw that all away for one man.”

 

Steve opened his mouth to yell, to make Tony understand that he had only been fighting for what he believed in. That he had learned and knew better now. But the words didn’t come, and part of Steve was thankful: he didn’t want another fight.

 

He was so tired of fighting.

 

Steve had come down here for a peace offering, but it was quickly spinning out of control. He needed to leave. “Fine,” Steve said with a weary shrug. “Make me your villain.”

 

Tony watched as Steve’s defeated form climbed up the stairs. He kept replaying Steve’s words in his head: “ _I thought I was doing what was right.”_

The words echoed through the empty space that Tony isolated himself in. _Wasn’t that what we were all doing? Fighting for something we believed in, for somewhat we thought was the best way through a bad situation?_

 

“But what is right anymore?” Tony muttered out loud, hopeless confusion tore through his thoughts. His left arm was aching and he tried to cling onto the pain as a way to stay anchored in the present. Instead, his mind flew back to the first time he had met Cap:

 

_Tony had once been fascinated by the legend of Captain America—all the stories he’d heard from his dad before Tony had met him. Now, Tony felt that same sense of fascination returning. Now, he would be meeting the man in person, and though he would never show it, he was scared and nervous._

Tony shook his head harshly, Tony did not want to relive the moment where his childhood hopes were crushed. He had grown up idolizing Captain America as the role model Howard never was. And despite realizing that his childhood hero thought little of him—despite everything they had been through—Tony still wanted Steve. Still needed him.

  
And it scared Tony more than anything before. Because he couldn’t understand why.


	5. Advice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Thank's for all your comments and kudos! Please keep leaving them for me, as they are a joy to see.   
> Hope you like this chapter, it was a hard one to write, I had to try to be wise (tough work for me).

Tony had resumed working in his shop after Steve’s visit, and had lost track of time as he tinkered away. His head perked up when he heard an unusual sound coming from the air vents. The metal groaned and Tony thought he heard an accompanying “oomph” with it.

 

“I thought spies were supposed to be sneaky.” Tony called up to the archer in the air vent. “You’d better lay off the donuts or you’ll be out of a job soon, Clint.”

 

In the best retort Clint could offer, he kicked out the vent’s screen, gracefully flipped out of the vent, and landed upright on his feet. It was impressive to say the least. “You we’re saying?” he grinned devilishly at Tony.

 

Tony just rolled his eyes and resumed working, not wanting to feed the other man’s ego. “Did you need something Legolas?”

 

Clint groaned at the nickname but replied, “I was roaming around and heard Steve talking to Nat about you and thought that it was only fair that I came down here to gossip about him with you.”

 

“What a friend.” Tony said sarcastically. In truth, he didn’t know if he wanted to talk about Steve or not. He was such a confusing topic for Tony.

 

Clint seemed to recognize this and started off with an easy question: “Have you tried talking to each other?”

 

Tony just snorted. “Yeah; once.” Clint wasn’t impressed. “We’ve mainly tried punching each other in the face repeatedly.” Tony reminisced on the events of Siberia and the airport. “What? You don’t think that will solve the problem this time?”

 

Clint laughed darkly, “I didn’t realize that solved the problem the first time.” They both settled in to an easy silence, thoughts swirling around them.

 

Tony spoke first, a quiet admission: “I miss him,” he whispered, unable to hold Clint’s gaze. “I miss who I thought he was.”

 

“He’s still the same guy, Tony. Stubborn. Righteous. Brave. Sensitive. It’s just that sometimes his best traits turn into his faults.”

 

“So do I love him or hate him for it?” This was the only question that mattered to Tony. He was being torn in two separate ways—being ripped at the seams. His heart had already decided the answer, but his mind had other ideas.

 

“The two aren’t mutually exclusive. Where there is love, there is often also hate. They can exist side by side.”

 

Tony let the answer soak in. “That might be a little too deep for me, buddy.” Tony lightly joked to avoid a real reply.

 

Clint sensed that Tony was losing strength to carry on the conversation so he made for an exit—opting to use the door like a normal person. He turned over his shoulder and called to Tony: “We can’t choose who we love, Tony.”

 

The mechanic’s eyes shot up and locked onto Clint’s. “I know. But I wish, more than anything, that we could.”

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Steve had given up on sleep a while ago. He was replaying his conversation with Tony over and over again in his mind. Each time changing his responses and actions in the way that one does when looking back on an unfortunate conversation.

 

Yet he still couldn’t figure out a way that would get Tony to open up to him. Steve sighed and made his way up to the common room, hoping he could get some relief with a change of scenery.

 

It seemed like he wasn’t the only one plagued by another sleepless night: Natasha was sitting on the couch sharpening a set of knives ritually and methodically. She didn’t say anything when Steve sat next to her, sensing that he needed to be the one to voice his troubles.

 

They sat in a comfortable silence, the only sound the soft scrape of metal on metal, a soothing cadence that seemed to lull Steve into a calmer state. He took a deep breath. “I went to talk to Tony today.”

 

“I assume that didn’t go well.”

 

Steve chuckled darkly. “No.” He paused for a long moment, trying to figure out a way to voice his thoughts. “I didn’t want it to go the way it did.”

 

“It’s not intentions that matter. It’s actions. We are what we do and say, not what we intend to.” Steve had a feeling she was talking about more than just a talk with Tony.

 

“Bucky was the only thing I had left.” Steve’s voice was weak. It was a better excuse than most, but an excuse nonetheless.

 

“I know Steve. We all know. You both have had more than enough suffering.” She set down her knife, and picked up another. Her eyes locked on Steve’s. “But you have to admit you didn’t exactly go about things the right way. Did you?”

 

Steve flinched. It was one thing to think those words to himself. It was another thing entirely to have someone tell it to him straight. Steve had screwed up.

“No. I didn’t.” His words were strong. _But Tony had too. I wasn’t the only one._ Steve automatically felt ashamed of his thoughts. He needed to forgive himself, and he needed to forgive Tony.  “So what do I do Nat?”

 

“Do you love him?” The question came out of the blue. Natasha was not one to avoid the elephant in the room.

 

His eyes widened, startled by her bluntness. _Love?_ Steve was a man ripped out of time: girls never talked to him before the serum, and after he had been busy saving the world. Sure he had been kissed by Peggy, but that was the extent of his experience. Would he even know what love felt like?

 

“How would I know?” he responded feebly.

 

“You’d know.”

 

Steve leaned back into the couch, closed his eyes and thought. “I love the way he is always moving, how he’s always working on some project, or thinking up a new design. I love the way his jaw sets when faced with a problem. And the way he can brighten up an entire room with laughter. And so much more.”

 

A light smile pulled at the corners of Steve’s lips as he thought about all of the beautiful parts of Tony. But as he thought longer, it began to fade: “I don’t love the way he thinks his way is always the best. Or the way that he treats everything as a joke. Or how—”

 

“You cannot pick and choose what parts of him to love, Steve.” Her voice held a certain coldness to it. Her words were spoken with a force that implored Steve to listen, to understand.

 

Nat had stopped her sharpening, and the silence that overcame them was deafening. The silence shaming Steve along with Nat’s words.

 

 _She’s right, of course._ _I either love Tony, faults and all, or I don’t. So which is it?_ His heart knew the answer but his mind did not like it.

 

“Why don’t you view his stubbornness as bravery? Or his arrogance as confidence? Can’t you see his jokes are a line of defense? That his show-off tendencies are his search for approval.” Nat turned to face Steve. “Things are rarely black and white, Steve.”

 

She gathered her knives and sharpening tools, and folded them into a leather bag, worn soft with years of use. Standing, she gave Steve one last piece of advice: “You left him, Steve. But you took something too. Whatever it was that made him the Tony Stark we know and love is gone.”

 

Nat turned to leave, calling over her shoulder: “It’s up to you to get it back.”


	6. Memory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I’m not sure which fic it was from, but I got the idea of the dream from another Stony fic. If someone recognizes it and knows the fic, let me know so I can give due credit! Also, I saw a tweet that gave me the idea for the photograph. So really this chapter is just a short inspired work haha.

Tony was used to having nightmares: there was always something troubling his mind. So whatever terror of the past Tony’s mind decided to focus on became his nightly burden; varying between having his arc reactor being ripped out by Obie, falling from the sky in New York, Whiplash, Ultron, Jarvis’ death, Siberia and more.

 

Needless to say, there was a lot of material to work with. For Tony, there was no greater pain or punishment than memory.

 

No matter what the nightmare was, Tony always felt helpless. Helpless to protect himself and helpless to protect the ones he loved. It was a cold feeling. One that seeped deep into his mind and body. A pollution that affected him long after he had woken up.

 

Tonight was no different:

_Tony was a kid again, back in his old bedroom, wearing a Captain America t-shirt and boxers.  He was lying in bed, surrounded by various tools and mechanical parts, tinkering around with a robot he was trying to build, when he broke into a triumphant grin. He had made a break through._

_Young Tony jumped out of bed, and ran towards the door. Small legs carried Tony quickly to his father’s lab, as he was eager to share the innovation with his dad. He knew not to bother Howard unless it was really important, but Tony had just created his first functioning robot, and he just knew that his dad would be proud._

_The keypad to his father’s door loomed above him—impenetrable to anyone who wasn’t a Stark. His father had tried to make it impenetrable only to himself, but Tony had always figured out a way in, much to Howard’s dismay._

_He stretched on his tip-toes, and his hand reached out to play with the code. Within seconds, the door had swung open and Tony was grinning with pride. Howard’s head shot up in surprise, and he looked down at the young Tony with glazed eyes, a glass of whisky in one hand. In an instant, Howard was in front of Tony, anger clearing his expression._

_His hand swung out hard, striking Tony to the floor._

Tony’s eyes snapped open. His heart raced. “Friday, lights!” Brightness flooded the room, and Tony squinted, fighting to keep his eyes open. He didn’t want to lose the fact that he was in his room—none of his younger self’s Captain America posters to be seen.

 

He checked the clock on his nightstand: 2 am. He had gotten three hours of sleep. _Not too bad,_ he congratulated himself and swung out of bed. There was no use of trying to fall back asleep, it was always impossible after his nightly terror.

 

Tony stripped off his sweat soaked shirt and hopped into a cold shower, trying to fully wake up and chase away his unpleasant childhood memories. He lathered and rinsed his hair, and scrubbed his body clean—wincing when he got to his chest.

 

Despite a month passing since his fight against Steve and Bucky, Tony’s body was still a tapestry of purple and black welts and bruises, especially his chest, where they surrounded rough scars where the arc reactor used to be, and a new scar. This one in the shape of a half moon, marking where Steve’s shield had cut through Tony’s armor, digging metal from the suit deep into his skin. He cleaned the area gingerly but quickly, not wanting to view or touch his mutilated chest longer than he had to.

Each burst of pain was a reminder that he did not need.

 

Tony shut the water down and dried off, walking out of the bathroom while avoiding his reflection in the mirror. _If people could see me the way I see myself - if they could live in my memories - would anyone love me?_

 

A disturbing answer to his own question hung over Tony’s head, and he hurriedly chased the thought away. Wrapping the towel around his waist Tony walked into his room and pulled on a fresh shirt and a pair of oversized sweats. He made his way to the window and stared out at the city below, his persistent thoughts turning to all of the bad moments of his life, conveniently ignoring all the good.

 

It was hard, growing up with a father who cared more about a frozen soldier than his own son, but Tony had always admired Howard no matter what he had put Tony through. Howard was rarely home, either out searching for the esteemed Captain America, or in his shop inventing, but growing up, Tony had merely wanted his dad’s approval.

 

It was still a mystery to Tony why the opinion of his father had mattered to him so much. He supposed he should have grown up resenting Howard and Steve. One for not loving him enough, the other for stealing any love Howard had to offer.

 

But how could he blame them? All Steve had done was sacrificed himself. All Howard had wanted to do was save his friend. Though he was certainly bitter, Tony couldn’t help but admire their resilience. No matter how hard he tried, it just wasn’t in him to hate someone.

 

Tony tore his gaze away from the city, and walked to his dresser. He slowly knelt down to the bottom drawer and pulled it open. Hesitantly, as if he was afraid of someone walking in and seeing what he was about to do, he drew out a photograph tucked away at the bottom of the drawer.

 

Tony stood up and sat on the bed, gazing long and hard at the photograph showing him at age 9, on the night of Halloween. He was dressed in a perfect replica of the Captain America suit—after all, his father had designed them both. Howard was standing behind him, a hand on Tony’s shoulder, looking pleased that his son and his hero were merging for a night.

 

Though he went as Captain America every Halloween, in the photo, Tony was grinning uncontrollably. It was the one night he could get his father to really look at him—even if it was because he was wearing a mask. Not wanting to break the spell those nights, Tony had tried his best to act like the great Captain America would have. That was something he did every day—pretend to be like his idol: Captain America.

 

If he could be like Cap, then maybe his dad would want to hang out with him more. If he could be like Cap, maybe Tony would be the center of the stories Howard told, instead of Steve.

 

So every day, Tony gave it his all to be helpful, strong, and brave—everything that Captain America was.

 

A hero.

 

And then he had met Steve, and he had been told to stop pretending. That he wasn’t a hero, and that he never would be.

 

Tony’s thoughts turned bitter the longer he stared at the picture. The photo showed Tony’s small hand resting on the uniform’s star in the middle of his chest, proud to be representing both America and Steve.

 

Tony reached up to his own chest, mirroring the action of his younger self. Only now, he was touching the scar where his hero’s shield had cut him deep. Deep into his heart.

 

Tony got up and threw the picture under his bed. The glass shattered, but Tony didn’t care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, and I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comment section!


	7. Fixer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is Tony's low, and the next one will be Steve's.
> 
> This is something I actually think Tony would never do in the MCU canon, but in this story, Tony is as hurt as he is strong, and it seemed like the right thing to do. 
> 
> I've never really read a fic where the author made this choice seem right to me (and I never thought I would write about it), so I am curious to hear how you all think I did. If you have any constructive criticism or thoughts, please don't hesitate let me know!
> 
> As always, thanks for reading!

Two weeks had passed since the team had moved in, and Tony had spent the entirety of the last week in his lab. It had been a rough, his days plagued with flashbacks and nightmares; harsh thoughts, and cruel demons continuously eating at his mind.

 

He was currently skipping another meal with the team, opting instead for some instant oatmeal, or what he liked to call “sawdust.” At least he was eating though, he had worked through all of his meals the day before. _See,_ he told himself, _I don’t need someone telling me when to sleep and eat. I’ll do it eventually._

 

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to hang out with everyone, but Tony was an emotional wreck—unsure of his feelings for Steve, and distrustful of himself to be around his friends. He wanted to keep them all safe, and because Tony felt like a TNT stick lit on both ends, safe meant keeping away from everyone who could get hurt by collateral damage.

 

Sure it was lonely, but Tony had convinced himself that it was better this way.

 

He had spent a lifetime practicing, becoming who he had to be to survive. Hiding in plain sight, always acting, always playing a part. There were times when Tony feared that he’d lose himself—his true self—in the haze of the façade. Maybe he already had. _But that fear doesn’t matter to anyone besides myself._

 

Tony sighed and choked down another bite of his hearty breakfast, and tried to push past his pain, into other thoughts. In his week of isolation, he had been doing a lot of thinking. As always, he was trapped in his mind. Between inventions, nightmares, memories, worries, and goals, Tony’s mind was constantly churning.

 

Recently his thoughts had been centered on Iron Man.

 

It wasn’t in an egotistical way: he wasn’t reveling in Iron Man’s greatest moments. Not even in an industrial way: he wasn’t trying to build more suits. No, Tony was thinking of the big picture: how Iron Man had affected himself, and others.

 

The suits had been a wakeup call—taking him from warmonger to life-saver. His cave creation was a blessing; the miniature arc reactor one of his greatest achievements.

 

But then Tony had watched as Obie ripped it from his chest. Then he was being poisoned to death. Then he was attacked by Whiplash. Portals opened up. Aliens invaded. Pepper was abducted; his house blown up. Ultron created, Jarvis killed. Sokovia destroyed, Avengers dismembered.

 

Tony was growing nauseous the longer he thought about it. Because hanging over every one of those memories, was an even scarier vision—one of the future. One that featured all of his friends, dead; their cold bodies, grotesque and lifeless, piled upon each other.

 

Iron Man had been powerless to stop it. He wasn’t enough _._ He and his suit, had failed.

 

The suit had been his way of protecting people, but the more Tony thought about it, the more he realized that Iron Man was at the center of almost all his issues. Once people had seen the tech he had created, they tried to replicate it—or steal it from his body.

 

But Tony _was_ Iron Man. As he had told many people, many times, you couldn’t separate the two. _But maybe that’s the problem,_ Tony’s racing thoughts came to an abrupt halt, honed in on that idea _._

 

He wasn’t a hero, and destruction followed his feeble attempt to be one.

 

Tony stood, determination in his eyes. It took only a split second for life to go horribly wrong; it took a lot more to make things go right. And to fix the mess that was his life, Tony needed a thousand things to go right.

 

The distance from one bit of luck to the next felt as great as the distance across oceans to Tony. His eyes hardened and he stood up, tall and strong. In that moment, Tony came to a decision. He was done feeling sorry for himself. He was done feeling helpless.

_But will bridge that distance, again and again, until I win. I will not fail._ In that ocean of grief, maybe there were islands of grace, moments in time where Tony could learn to remember what was left rather than all that had been lost.

He would fight to find those times, because Tony desperately wanted to be whole again, to feel like he wasn’t a danger to the team, to mend his relationship with Steve. But he couldn’t do that until he fixed himself—rebuilt the man that he used to be.

 

And that was who he really was. Not a man in a mask, or a sorrowful backstory. Not a forgotten son or a self-assured jokester. Not just a genius, playboy, billionaire, philanthropist.

 

No. He was much, much more.

 

He was Tony Stark: a confident, selfless man. A mechanic. A builder and a fixer. _And I’ll be damned if I can’t fix myself._ Tony pulled out his phone and dialed. The man on the other end picked up on the first ring and Tony didn’t give him the chance to say hi, “We need to talk. Now. Face to face”

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Less than an hour later, Tony was storming into one of SHEILD’s meeting rooms. Fury was standing there, intimidating as ever, and typing on his phone heatedly. He nodded his head, indicating Tony should start, despite the phone’s distraction.

“I’ve had a realization, Nick.”

 

“This should be good.”  
  


“The fight between Steve and me—”

 

“The media’s calling it a Civil War.” Fury called out the title with a laugh; Tony paled at the more than accurate description.

 

“—Civil War, whatever. It’s impacting work. It’s impacting the team.”

 

Fury finally looked up from his phone. “Tony…” Nick said in an unsure voice, not knowing what was coming next.

 

“So I’ve decided to remove myself from the Avengers. Effective immediately.” His words kept pouring out, thinking that if he stopped talking, he’d lose his courage and take everything back: “I was only a consultant anyway, and you’ve got plenty of superheroes to protect the world even without Iron Man on your side. I won’t give you, or anyone, the suits, of course. But I would refrain from using them, and I know you—”

 

“Are you done yet” Fury interrupted. Exasperation sharp in his voice, whittling away at Tony’s certainty.  

 

Fury started to talk, but Tony wasn’t listening. He would be leaving this room as a civilian and nothing else. Iron Man had caused everyone nothing but trouble, and he couldn’t take it anymore. _Sometimes, the only way to set things right is to do what is difficult._

 

“You haven’t heard a word of what I’ve just said have you?” Fury said in astonishment.

 

“Sorry what was that?” Tony countered. He was on autopilot, which happened to be defensive sarcasm. Tony tried to focus. “Nick, there is no way out of this but my way. I already signed the papers. And even if you shred them, I’ll just stop reporting for missions. Want to detain me for disobedience? Fine. That will really make it hard to put on the suit.”

 

Tony’s voice was ice as he finished his speech, “There is no scenario where I come out of this as an Avenger. I’m not Iron Man anymore.” _I’m barely Tony Stark._

 

Fury looked at him with a mixture of disappointment and anger. It was an expression Tony had gotten too used to seeing. Fury sounded tired when he spoke next, “I expected more from you, Stark.”

  
Tony wished he had a quick one liner to shut Fury up; something that was witty or suave, and would enable Tony to laugh through the pain. But the truth weighed down words: “It’s not the first time I’ve been a disappointment.” Tony turned to leave. “And I’m sure it won’t be the last.”

He left without waiting for Nick’s response.

  
Fury’s eye twitched, the movement betraying his usually unreadable face. He was genuinely surprised at Tony’s admission. Things were clearly worse than he had anticipated they would be after the Civil War.

 

He pulled out his phone and made a call. Tony wouldn’t listen to Fury.

 

But maybe he would listen to his captain.


	8. Sandwich

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I lied, this chapter is not Steve's breaking point, (sorry to disappoint those of you who were waiting for that but it will come eventually). 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

Nothing had blown up lately.

 

 _It’s a good thing,_ Steve reminded himself constantly. _Things aren’t supposed to blow up. It’s a good thing that there are no catastrophes for the Avengers to fix._

But in the back of his mind there was a dark voice that told Steve he was nothing without a war to fight. That he was nothing if he wasn’t out there saving someone. Because Steve was a soldier, _and what was a soldier without a fight?_ Steve pushed the thought away, ashamed that he would think something like that.

 

With no bad guys to kill or evil plan to thwart, Steve was left with too much time on his hands, and too much time to think about Tony. It was far from productive—and Steve hated it. Clint had dubbed him “Mother Hen” since he was always helping other people and running errands for them all. 

 

The nickname had bothered him at first until he had realized it was kind of true. But so what? Taking care of people was what Steve did best. And how was he supposed to know what he liked? He had grown up too poor to afford any real hobbies besides sketching, and it wasn’t like he could go paint the town with his old buddies.

 

Steve clenched his jaw and shoved his emotions away, choosing instead to focus on the meal he was preparing. He had tried cooking as a distraction when he had first gotten to the tower, and had found that he wasn’t half bad at it.

 

Team dinner’s had been his most recent hallmark. It combined his goal of team bonding with his love of all things uniting—nothing brought the team together like the smell of a barbecue. The dinners had been working marvelously too. Everyone seemed to be regaining their trust in each other—everyone but Tony.

 

Steve began chopping up lettuce with a bit more force than required. As usual, Tony was the exception _._ The billionaire always seemed to exempt himself from everything. Team dinner’s included. _Too important to come out of his lab and spend some time with us._

 

He stopped chopping, and sighed. The lettuce had become nothing but mush in his frustration.

 

Steve just couldn’t understand Tony. The man was arrogant and immature; too sarcastic and self-assured for his own good. But he was also caring and thoughtful, a genius and a friend. One moment he’d act like he was the most important member of the team, but then spend an entire week working on an improvement for someone’s gear. He’d insult Steve to his face, but would put himself in harm’s way to save him in a battle.

 

It had been this way since the first time they had met.

 

Steve had looked forward to meeting Tony since the second Fury told him that Howard had a son. Tony would be his link to the past, a familiar friend in a new world. But that dream had shattered the instant he met the man. Sure, Tony was charming and good-looking, he certainly knew how to have a good time, but he was careless and arrogant. Never looking out for the little guy.

 

He put shame on the Stark name, and Howard deserved much more.

 

But despite the disappointment Tony caused him, Steve couldn’t help but be intrigued by the man. He had tried not to be. He desperately wanted to ignore how his stomach fluttered every time he saw Tony. How his heart clenched with Tony’s self-deprecating jokes or life threatening actions. But nothing had worked. He was in love with Tony—no matter how mad the other man could make him.

 

And it scared him. Because he didn’t know why.

 

Steve’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of hungry Avengers filling the room. Clint and Natasha appeared, their voices bright, and their laughter echoing off of the walls, lightening Steve’s mood.

 

Their faces fell when they saw that Steve had only made one sandwich. “Who’s the sandwich for Steve?” Clint inquired, wanting to know if he could snatch up the meal.

 

Steve was hesitant to respond, knowing he would get hell: “Um…Tony”

 

“A lunch date? How cute!” Clint at Nat fist bumped in childish glee.

 

Steve’s cheeks grew pink. “I don’t—what?...People need to eat Clint.”

 

Steve had been putting his mother hen and chef skills to use by fixing Tony lunch. He hadn’t seen the mechanic since two nights ago and was starting to worry about him. _From a strictly team-management point of view,_ he reminded himself.

 

Thor and Bruce rounded the corner, and took in the scene around them. Thor couldn’t help but comment: “Ah! The good Captain is blushing!” He boomed with a grin. “Are we talking about Tony?”

 

Steve started to protest. “I can’t stand Tony, he’s—”

  
“—arrogant and narcissistic” they all finished together. Apparently Steve had been saying that for a while now. Clint continued the assault, “Come on Cap, even though you two _think_ that you hate each other, everyone else knows that you both have the hots for each other.”

 

Steve groaned, it was obviously doing no good to avoid his crush, so he embraced it head on. “Fine, you’re right, despite all that we’ve been through I like the guy—I want to know more. But he’s Tony Stark, and he hates me—there’s no way he’d ever feel the same.”

 

Nat scoffed and the others shook their heads—“Steve you are so oblivious.”

 

“I am not!”

 

Bruce piped in, “I bet you haven’t noticed how you always light up when he enters the room, and how you blush when he catches you staring?” He took Steve’s look of astonishment as a “no” and continued on, ‘Sure, Tony thinks you’re staring at him and judging him, but we all know you’re just thinking he’s cute.”

 

Steve was speechless, but the others kept talking. It was like they had all come here for the explicit purpose of convincing Steve that he and Tony were meant to be. His eyes narrowed as he saw the mischievous glint in all of their expression. _I’d bet that’s exactly what they planned._

 

Nat pushed onward. “Steve, I can hear his breath change every time he sees you.”

 

“You…you can?”

 

“It catches every time.”

 

“Like he's never seen you before.” Clint confirmed.

 

Despite his best attempts at hiding it, a grin broke across Steve’s face. Thor clapped his shoulder and the others smiled.Steve took a deep breath and confessed: “Tony drives me insane guys. He’s the scariest, most clever, bravest person I know, and sometimes I can't think straight because I'm trying so hard to keep up.”

 

Everyone looked at him in a combination of cheerfulness and impatience. “God you’re an idiot” Clint told him.  Steve just looked at him in confusion. “You should be telling Tony that, not us.”

 

Steve countered, in his own impatience: “It’s not that easy! Every time I’m near him, something just gets in the way.” The group looked at him and chimed in their thoughts:

 

“Raging hormones?”

 

“Giant egos?”

 

“Your blinding righteousness?”

 

“His daddy issues?”

 

The team tried to hold in their laughter—and failed miserably.

 

 _Daddy issues?_   _Blinding righteousness?_ Steve shrugged off the comments with a chuckle. They were right, of course. There really wasn’t any reason that he shouldn’t just tell Tony how he felt. If Tony rejected him, then fine—their situation couldn’t get much worse. _But if he feels the same way…_ A tentative smile formed on his face as Steve thought of the wonderful possibilities.

 

“Okay, I’ll do it.”

 

The others looked at him in confusion. Bruce spoke up for all of them, “And what are you doing exactly?”

 

“I’m going to tell him. I’m going to tell him how I feel.”

 

Everyone grinned in excitement and went on their merry way, confirming Steve’s suspicions that they had only come to the kitchen for some type of intervention. When Steve looked up, only Clint remained.

 

“More advice, Barton?”

 

“Just a warning, Steve.” Clint’s tone had grown more serious, as if what he was about to say carried more weight than the whole preceding conversation. “I talked to Tony about you the other day, and he’s not in a good place.”

 

“Oh” Steve’s voice was quiet. _I guess that means I won’t be telling Tony how I feel._

As if reading Steve’s thoughts, Clint shook his head. “The way he was talking about you, the way he looks at you. I got it then. He loves you, and it is killing him. He won’t get over you, Steve, he can’t.”

 

Though Steve felt as if he should be rejoicing that someone could truly confirm Tony loved him, instead he felt a deep sadness. _I turned his love into pain. I did that._ Steve nodded to Clint, and the archer left the room, leaving Steve with his thoughts.

 

Suddenly, his mind cleared. Like Nat had told him, it was up to Steve to get Tony’s trust back, and to show him that he deserved to be loved. Steve was going to fix things. Maybe even have that lunch date. He would make things right.

 

At least, that was the plan, until the phone rang. Until Fury told him about Iron Man.

 

Until Steve saw red, and stormed down to set Tony straight, sandwich forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *ominous music in the background*


	9. Fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!

_It’s been a good day._

 

Tony was sitting in his shop, staring through a computer screen, not truly aware of his surroundings. _It’s been a good day,_ he repeated. He was repeating the phrase with two goals: to congratulate and convince himself.

 

He had given up Iron Man. He had started to fix himself.

 

He had given up Iron Man. He had abandoned a piece of himself.

 

Beginning with his father and ending with Steve, Tony had been left feeling abandoned too many times in his life. Loneliness and fear from Wanda’s terrible vision. Loneliness and pain when the Avengers split. Loneliness and heartbreak when Steve left him.

 

Tony was all too familiar with abandonment.

 

He couldn’t help but wonder if it was his fault. Surely he had done something wrong if people kept leaving him? Surely he deserved his lonely existence.   _But if no one in the entire world cared about you, did you really exist at all?_

 

Tony clenched his jaw. This was the type of thinking he was trying to avoid. There was nothing wrong with him. He’d made mistakes, he had his faults, but so did everyone else. Tony hoped with every fiber in his being that in a few days it would start to sink in that he wasn’t endangering himself or others anymore by being Iron Man.

 

Maybe then he could start to feel truly comfortable with the team. Maybe then he could mend his friendship with Steve.

 

A tentative smile danced across his face, but it was quickly wiped away when Steve’s booming voice interrupted his thoughts. “Tony!” He spit the name out in disgust. “Let me into this workshop. Right now.” He was red in the face. Anger, resentment, and sadness resonated off of him.

  
Tony spun around on his chair to face the man. His heart was pounding, but his face showed no emotion. He had too many years of pretending behind him to crack now. The only sign of his discomfort was his leg, that was bouncing up and down repeatedly. He hoped Steve would chalk it up to too much coffee or would be too angry to notice.

 

He was at least comforted by the knowledge that Steve couldn’t enter unless he gave FRIDAY the command to let Steve in. “Now why would I want to do that Cap?” _A valid question_ , he thought.

 

Steve took some deep breaths, trying to clear his mind of anger. Though he was furious, and wanted Tony to know how selfish he was being, he didn’t want this to escalate to a fight. Though he lowered his volume,  he continued to glare at Tony: “Because you need to explain to me face to face, why I just got a call from Nick Fury saying that you quit the Avengers.”

 

 _Damn._ Tony conceded, “Fair point.”

 

As the leader of the Avengers Steve had a right to an explanation. But Tony had to decide if Steve had a right to the truth, or the lame excuse he had told Fury. He pictured the photograph of his younger self in the uniform and came to a decision. The Steve that he had grown up admiring would understand. He would be proud that Tony was protecting himself and others.

 

He would see how Tony, as Iron Man, was at the center of all chaos. That by quitting, Tony was protecting everyone.

 

So Tony decided to tell Steve the truth. How, for the first time in a long time, Tony felt as if he were doing something right. And maybe, just maybe, he and Steve could begin anew.

 

He took a few own deep breaths and gave FRIDAY the cue to let Steve in.

 

Steve stormed in, and Tony knew he had made a terrible mistake. “I know that you hate me Tony, but I thought you were above this. You have the capability to protect people and you’re throwing it away over an argument with me?”

 

 _It’s not about you Steve. It’s about me not being able to go a day without thinking of all the horrible things that I’ve done and all of the horrible things that have happened to me._ “But who was going to protect me?”

 

Steve was too angry to hear the defeat and embarrassment in Tony’s voice, and instead continued his assault. “You sacrificed being Iron Man so you could avoid your responsibilities? So you could avoid me?” It was less of a question but something he truly believed.

 

“I sacrificed being Iron Man so that I could sleep—” His voice waivered and broke when he realized what he had just admitted. He looked down in shame. Tears formed in his eyes and he furiously blinked them away, humiliated to show such weakness.

 

“What do you know about it?” Tony asked bitterly.

 

“I’ve had my fair share of loss.”

 

“Dry your eyes Steve” Tony said, his voice hard, eyes cold. “It doesn’t justify what you’ve done.”

 

If Steve didn’t want to listen to him, fine. He was use to the judgement, _why should I have expected that anything could have changed?_ Their voices were growing in anger and volume with each sentence. Cold rage tore between them. All the work that they had both done in an attempt to reach out to each other was forgotten.

 

“You have no idea what I’ve done.”

 

“I know you took the things that mean the most to me.”

 

“Well maybe you should have fought harder for them!”

 

“If you want a fight Steve, I’ll give you another fight!”

 

Tony screamed his next words, venom dripping from each syllable: “You abandoned me! You took them away, and you abandoned me!” Tony’s chest heaved, his eyes wide and crazed. All the painful memories that had built up in his mind were exploding at once, fueling his rage.

 

But Steve had his own rage.

 

“Wanda. Sokovia. New York.” Steve stepped forward with each name, and Tony backed away with the force that each one carried. “What about them?” “What about Bucky?” His veins were bulging and his face was bright red. “What about the ones we are supposed to protect? The weak and the hopeless? The abused and the battered?” Steve had destroyed Tony with his words. His eyes had gone hollow and his face, pale.

 

But Steve didn’t care.

 

He needed Tony to understand. Needed him to see his faults. So his rage crashed down on Tony in full force. “And look at you now Tony. Hiding! Pretending to be something you’re not!” Steve was in disbelief that a man could be so selfish. So he continued his assault.

 

“You abandoned us all when you signed the accords.” He threw Tony’s words back into his face. “You abandoned us all when you gave up on Iron Man.” Steve’s eyes turned to ice; his heart into stone.

 

And Tony’s heart shattered. Broken like a memory shoved under a bed.

 

“I may have left you all alone, but _you_ abandoned _us all_.” He had roared the last words, and Tony had no response left to offer. His head was swimming and his heart pounding. He was trying to understand what was happening, but confusion muddled his thoughts. _All I wanted to do was protect the people I loved, and instead I abandoned them._ He had no idea what was right or wrong anymore.

 

So he just stood there, shaking. Taking in the hate he thought he deserved. Until Steve raised his hands in exasperation. And Tony lost it.

 

Steve’s hands went up, and Tony saw them coming back down with his shield, aimed right at his chest. Suddenly he was back in Siberia, fighting for his life.

 

Tony flew backwards, crashing into a work table and knocking into a pile of scrap metal. Bruised and bleeding, he tried crying out in fear. But he was choking on his own words and his breath was too rapid to form any sentence. All he managed was to croak out a “please.”

 

 _Don’t hurt me,_ his mind filled in. 

 

Tony scrambled away from Steve until he hit a wall. Sinking to the ground he began to feel overwhelmingly cold. He started to shiver and shake as memory bled into reality. His flashback, a living nightmare. _You’re fine. You’re not in Siberia. It’s fine._ But horror filled his body and flooded his mind.

 

He was choking on the fear. Drowning in the pain. Tony fought it as best as he could. He put every shred of hope and light into the battle. But in the end, it wasn’t enough.

 

Tony began to scream.

 

He screamed for everything that had gone wrong. For everything broken in his life.

 

Steve stared in shock at Tony. Frozen in his mixed emotions. He waited eagerly for the triumph to hit him. He had finally made Tony understand that he was selfish and wrong. He waited, and waited, and waited.

 

But it doesn’t come.

 

Instead, he is flooded with panic, his eyes go wide in fear. _What did I just do? Oh my god, what did I just do?_ It was a stupid question. Steve knew exactly how the other man had looked when he had accused him of abandoning his friends. How Tony had paled and quivered. How he had looked like he might cry or be sick.

 

Yet Steve hadn’t cared. _What kind of monster am I?_

 

“Tony?” Steve said softly, unsure if he would only make things worse. “Tony?!” He tried again in a louder and more fearful voice, as it was clear that Tony was trapped in another world.

 

Tony’s screams were becoming hoarse and they soon gave way to hiccupping sobs. Steve knelt beside the trembling man and scooped him up into his arms. Positioning himself so he was cradling Tony in his lap. Tony either didn’t notice, or didn’t care, because he let Steve hold him like that. “I’m so sorry Tony. I’m so sorry. It’s okay.” He began to rub small circles on the other man’s back. Tony had begun to calm down, but he was still shaking and tears were still streaming down his face. “I…I never…” Steve was at a loss for words. He could only apologize.

 

Despite the horrible situation, in the back of his mind Steve couldn’t help but think, _This is probably the only time I’ll ever get to hold Tony in my arms._ He rested his cheek on the other man’s head and threaded his hands through Tony’s hair. “I’m so sorry, Tony. Can you ever forgive me? Something is wrong with me. I don’t compromise, and I don’t listen. I see that now, and I will do anything in my power to change that.”

 

Tony’s breath was starting to slow, but his whole body was tense, as if he couldn’t tell if he was in the arms of a friend or an enemy. And who could blame him? “Steve?” he questioned, confused and frightened as if he had just woken up from a nightmare. His voice was soft, sounding young and naïve.

 

Steve wrapped his arms tightly around the other man, trying to comfort him. “Tony, it’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you.”

 

It was clearly the wrong thing to say. Tony shot up from the ground, pushing away from Steve. Snot and tears ran down his face and he looked at Steve with broken eyes. His voice was defeated, “But you did hurt me.” He spun on his heels and made his way towards the exit.

  
And if not for Steve’s super-soldier hearing, he would have missed Tony’s final admission: “You’re killing me.” Steve flinched, and Tony left the room.

 

It was then that Steve’s eyes were opened. He remembered how he had seen Bucky and forgotten Tony. How Steve had lied to him. How Tony had done everything for those he loved, and Steve had done everything for Bucky.

 

It was then, that Steve remembered how he had truly left Tony in Siberia.

 

It was then, that Steve started to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you believe me if I told you this has a happy ending?
> 
> Also: If any of the argument sounded familiar to you, I would encourage you to check out the airplane scene from X-Men Days of Future Past! Some of you have already noticed that I heavily drew from this scene (almost verbatim) since it perfectly captures the anguish the characters feel!


	10. Guilty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now we begin the journey of reparation, yet again. Hopefully this time with more success...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!

Clint and Nat were in a very heated game of Ping-Pong when Friday called out to them. Her voice was so intense that Clint ended up missing the table by a yard—something that would have normally made Natasha ridicule him. But she too, was thrown off by Friday’s worried tone. “There’s been an issue in the lab with Steve and Tony. Someone needs to go down there. Now.”

 

They were already half way out the door when Clint put his hand on Natasha’s shoulder. “If Steve hurt him...” His tone was dark, and she heard the warning it carried. She gave him a nod. If Steve had done something to Tony, she wouldn’t be able to take his side. No matter how badly she wanted the two to have a happy ending.

 

They ran to the workshop and saw Steve sitting on the ground, leaning against a wall. The same place that only a moment ago, he had been holding Tony in a feeble attempt to remedy the pain he had caused.

 

“What the hell happened Steve?”

 

“I broke him. I broke Tony.” Steve miserably explained the disaster that had just occurred, the horror that he had caused. “He looked so lonely and afraid.” Steve finished. _I suppose I should get used to being alone too. Not in the world, but in here. In my heart._

When Steve had finished Clint couldn’t contain himself, so it was a blessing that he didn’t have his arrows. “What the hell Steve? Did you literally ignore everything we’ve told you? I mean, seriously! What the fuck?” Natasha’s reaction was much scarier. She was calm and collected—unreadable. Her spy mask was on, and only her eyes betrayed her emotion. They held cold fury.

 

Steve tried to protest: “You think I  _wanted_  to hurt him? Do you think it made me happy to see the little bit of trust he had in me die that moment?” 

 

Steve was suffering, Natasha knew it was true. But he was also the cause of it. She was full of mixed emotions, but ultimately, Steve needed to see that. Her voice was deadly: “Well what did you want Steve?”

 

“I – I don’t…” Steve faltered. It was a question that cut right to the bone. One that he was ashamed to answer. Hadn’t he wanted to make Tony feel small? Feel like the selfish man Steve had thought he was. “I’m a monster.”

 

Clint who had been pacing back and forth like a mad man, came to a halt in front of Steve. “I thought you said you loved him? How could you do this to someone you loved?”

 

For yet another time that day, Steve was at a loss. “I do,” he answered the first question, not knowing if there was an answer to the second one. He did love Tony.

 

“I thought you were better than this,” came Clint’s next attack. But anything Clint could say, Steve had already thought about himself.

 

“People tend to overestimate my character,” he says quietly. “They think that because I’m clean cut, old, and Captain America, I can’t possibly cruel. But they’re wrong.”

 

“Damn right we were wrong.” Clint spit the words in disgust. “We trusted you. Tony was trying to trust you, and—”

 

“I didn’t mean to!” Steve blurted out. It was a weak excuse, and they all knew it.

 

It was Nat’s turn to chime in: “You’re right Steve.” The two men looked at her in shock, but she wasn’t finished. “You couldn’t have known that that he would have such a bad flashback.” She got quieter, and a thousand times more deadly. “But you should have known how he admired up to you. You should have noticed that he loved Iron Man more than anything, and wouldn’t have given it up over nothing.”

 

She narrowed her eyes. “You should have known Steve. He was broken, and was trying to heal.” Some part of Nat knew that Steve needed as much help as Tony, that Steve was just as lost. But he had his chance. Her heart broke for him; her heart hardened against his. “You’re to stay away from him.”

Steve’s lips parted in a small gasp, even Clint looked shocked. But she wasn’t finished: “From now own, you don’t go near Tony. You don’t get to love him. And if you try, we will be there, the true Avengers, protecting him from harm. Protecting him from you.”

 

Steve slowly nodded, trying to convince himself that this was for the best. He had tried to do something like this before, when he had first met Tony. The man was a habit in Steve’s thoughts, not any more welcome than a rash was, but Steve would find himself thinking of Tony before he even realized what he was doing. _Trying to banish Tony from my thoughts was like learning to breathe without oxygen. It was a conscious effort. One that failed._

 

And here he was agreeing to do it again.

 

Steve didn’t know how or when he had fallen in love, but there were a hundred different reasons. “I can't leave him like this. We've been through too much to turn into strangers.”

 

Clint’s voice was steel: “We’re not giving you a choice.” He stormed out of the room, bringing out his phone. Tony needed his help now, and there was only one man he could think to call.

 

Before Nat left, she looked down at the sad man below her. If she was being honest, he was a pathetic sight. Eyes red and puffy from tears, his shirt still damp from where Tony’s own tears had stained it. His hand was trembling and his whole demeanor was defeated. This was a man who had truly recognized the destruction of his own actions.

 

Nat took a small pity on the man. Offering a glimmer of hope, something to hold on to as he entered his own personal purgatory. “No one is born a monster Steve, just like no one is born alone. They become that way, through choice and circumstance.” She gave him one last look as she said, “You can choose to become something else.”

Soon, it was just Steve, sitting on the cold hard floor, with no will to move. His heart ripped open, shredded, and leaking blood.


	11. Suicide Mission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So these chapters are progressively getting longer and harder to write, so I might need to slow down on how often I post them, but I'll still try for every day as of now. It's literally all I do after I get home from work so I don't want to burn out haha. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, and I hope you like this chapter!

Tony was huddled in the corner of his room, a nervous wreck. He had torn the comforter from his bed and wrapped himself in it like a giant sad burrito. It would have been quite a funny sight if his eyes weren’t blood shot and his lips weren’t chapped from ragged breathing. 

Despite everything that had transpired, he wasn’t crying. He was alone, so he didn’t have to be ashamed if tears poured out from his misery, but for some reason, the tears just wouldn’t come. Maybe that’s why I can’t cry, he realized, staring dry-eyed at the ceiling. Because I’m alone. And what is the point in crying when there is no one there to comfort you? And what is worse, when I can’t even comfort myself?

Tony tried to silence his onslaught of thoughts. He was cradling his knees to his chest and slumped against the wall. Though his breathing had slowed, he couldn’t get the fearful thought out of his head: that Steve hated him. Now, Tony was muttering to himself; he had already gone through the Fibonacci sequence, recited pentagonal and hexagonal numbers, and was now mumbling strings of half completed sentences trying to calm down.

“Who are you talking to?”

Tony stayed staring at the ceiling. He’d know that voice anywhere: Rhodey. For the first time since the argument, he felt a shred of hope. A half-smile broke his worried expression. “Myself.” He answered, simply.

“You do that a lot, huh?” 

“I know. I’m the only one who understands me.”

Rhodey was keeping it light, but the sight of Tony barricaded in a corner was more frightening then he’d care to admit. When Clint had called to tell him what happened, he had hopped into the suit and raced to the tower, but even he hadn’t thought it would be this bad.

Rhodey walked over to Tony and sat next to him, placing a hand on his friend’s arm in comfort, waiting for him to speak. Tony didn’t know why Rhodey was there, as he was supposed to be on duty, but he didn’t care why—just that he was. Still, he lied. “I’m okay.”

“I’d believe you if you weren’t so full of crap.” Rhodey’s response was quick, knowing that he would never get a straight answer out of Tony on the first try.

Tony looked off into the distance, staring at the bed on the opposite side of the room. His eyes were glazed, trapped in both the past and the present. After a long moment of silence it was clear that Rhodey was going to have to bring up the issue at hand. 

“So no more Iron Man?”

“I was trying to fix myself, for everyone.” Tony said quickly, not wanting yet another person to yell at him for his selfish decision. But he should have known better, Rhodey was there for him, no matter how isolated he felt. 

“Brave move. I’m impressed” Rhodey told him. Tony’s eyes slowly met Rhodey’s, unsure if he was being lied to or not. Rhodey saw his uncertainty and continued. “But what are you trying to fix?” Tony looked at him, confused. “Bravado was your armor. Fragile stuff, all show. But what's inside you? That's steel. It's brave and unbreakable.”

Tony rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to protest, but Rhodey cut him off: “And it doesn't need fixing.”

Tony didn’t know how to respond, but he needed Rhodey to understand: “That’s not true, and you know that. I’ve been broken too many times to count. And I couldn’t handle breaking again. There was nothing anyone else could do to fix me, so I tried. I tried to fix myself, to give up Iron Man. But Steve—”

“Steve’s an idiot.”

Tony looked at Rhodey in shock, not used to hearing anyone talk poorly about Steve. His jaw clenched; he didn’t like it. All hero’s had their faults. For all the shit Tony gave Steve, and all the shit Steve had put Tony through, Steve was still his idol. “No he’s not. He’s a hero.”

It was Rhodey’s turn to look to Tony in shock. “How can you still say that after everything he’s put you through?”

“He’s a good leader.”

“That doesn’t mean he’s a good person.” Rhodey countered. Trying to get Tony to see how Steve didn’t deserve Tony’s love. There may have been a time when Steve did, but the guy that had made Tony feel threatened and abandoned definitely did not. No matter whose hero he was. 

“Tony he’s caused you nothing but suffering ever since you met him,” Rhodey tried to convince him. But suffering was like anything else. Live with it long enough, you learn to like the taste. 

But Tony couldn’t be convinced that Steve was the bad guy; he was too certain that all issues were on his own shoulders. “I always felt like the world was eating away at me, Rhodey.” Tony braced himself for the confession that was coming: “But Steve consumed me in a different way. The way his eyes made everything jump inside of me when I looked into them, his laughter, temper, the way he sometimes struggled for words, the way his jaw twitched when he was angry, the thoughtful way he listens to people, his incredible restraint and resolve in the face of overwhelming odds.” 

Tony’s eyes had slid back to the bed, and Rhodey traced their gaze. He was actually looking under the bed, and when Rhodey squinted, he could make out a shattered photograph of young Tony dressed as Cap, and understood. As much as Tony ran from his past, he was also in love with the memory of his childhood hero. 

Rhodey sighed. He wouldn't wish love on anyone. It was the guest you welcomed and then couldn't be rid of. “Anyone can betray anyone, Tony. Even your own heart.”

Tony was all too familiar with that problem. He knew that it was crazy that he loved Steve, he knew that it made no sense. His heart was not something he could control. Tony stretched out his legs, and turned to Rhodey. “I thought I knew what heartbreak was. I thought that was what Pepper did to me. When she left me alone. When she told me she couldn’t put up with me anymore. But then, I believed I loved her.” 

Tony paused, gathering the courage to continue. “I know now, I didn't know what love was. Or what even the echo of heartbreak felt like.” He kept speaking, his voice growing regretful, but not bitter. “To stand in front of a person who is your whole world and be told you are not enough. You are not the choice. You are a shadow to the person who is your sun. That was heartbreak. That was what Steve did to me when he chose Bucky.” 

Rhodey sensed there was more he needed to say, and after a while, Tony continued. “But I still need him. I need the man I grew up thinking he was, I need the man he used to be.” Steve was America’s golden boy, Tony’s flame of life. But you can’t have a flame without a shadow. “I need him to tell me I’m worth it.”

“You are Tony.”

His voice grew soft: “Not to him.” 

After that confession, Rhodey knew Tony was in trouble. He was in love with Steve, and it looked like he would never not be—even if it killed him. “So what are you going to do, Tony?”

“I’m going to forgive Steve.”

Rhodey was unconvinced. “So you're going to try to make him happy despite the fact that the reason you’re unhappy in the first place is him," Rhodey said, not very kindly. "That seems contradictory, doesn't it?" 

Tony ripped his eyes away from the photo and leaned his head back against the wall. “I love him Rhodey, but love’s not that simple. I wish it was. That it was always given and returned in the same measure, equally and at the same time, that all the planets aligned in a perfect way to dispel all doubts, that it was easy to understand and never painful.” 

Rhodey clenched his hands into fists. Angry at the world for making Tony feel so helpless. Angry at Steve for hurting Tony. But on some level he understood. Once someone's hurt you, it's harder to relax around them, harder to think of them as safe to love.

But it doesn't stop you from wanting them. 

Rhodey steeled himself, and came to a decision. Since Tony wouldn’t fall out of love, then Rhodey would help he and Steve achieve it—without any more casualties. He would help his friend reach happiness, one way or another.

Tony closed his eyes in misery, and repeated his plan. “I’m going to forgive him, and learn to live with the idea that he will never love me.”

Rhodey looked at Tony with a deep sadness. Even though Rhodey didn’t approve of Tony’s choice, he couldn’t stand him living in purgatory, chasing a man he thought he could never have. “Tony you cannot harden your heart to the future just because of your past. You cannot use cruelty from others to justify cruelty to yourself.”

Tony knew Rhodey was right, but he didn’t want him to be. “Wouldn’t it be so much easier if I stopped caring though? Became cruel? Why can’t I be the father who shrugs off the love of his son? Why can’t I be the villain who enjoys watching the world fall apart? Why can’t I be the one who befriends an overconfident, lonesome man and then casts him out?”

“Because that isn’t who you are Tony, and that’s why you deserve happiness more than most. That’s why you’re a hero. With or without the suit.” Rhodey held Tony’s gaze, trying to scare the doubt out of his mind. “Steve will learn to see that.” 

Tony broke away, Rhodey was right, of course. He always was, and Tony tended not to think clearly when Steve was concerned. “I never wanted anyone to have this much power over my emotions. It was safer to keep to myself, to keep things on the surface. Things ended better that way.”

“That’s not living, Tony” Rhodey’s voice was hard, his frustration growing. He needed Tony to understand. But it looked like Tony was done with the conversation. The man had curled in on himself and rolled to the side, making a makeshift nest out of the giant blanket. 

Rhodey didn’t know what else to say. He didn’t know what was going to happen to Tony. He only wanted his friend to be happy. And for some reason, the only way Tony thought he could achieve that was if Steve approved of him—if Steve loved him. 

It was a suicide mission. It was crazy and twisted. But it was Tony. 

Rhodey decided in that moment, that he would fix things. The Avengers would have a new priority. Someone who had deserved their help for a long time. They would heal Tony, even if it meant fixing Steve along the way. Rhodey pulled the comforter over his legs and rested against the wall, resolving to stay there as long as Tony needed.

Once there was a man who vowed he would save everyone in the world, but forgot about himself. 

Rhodey was there to change that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What have I gotten myself into???


	12. Fury

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is some relief from the angst I've been piling up. Enjoy!

The whole team was piled in the kitchen, pouring drinks—alcohol and coffee—joking around, and watching Nat cook. Tony was sitting at the end of the bar, towards the back end of the kitchen, and Steve was on the opposite end. Though Tony wasn’t aware of it, the team had slyly placed themselves in between the two men, forming a human shield around Tony at all times.

It was an unspoken agreement between all of them, that they would begin to focus on making Tony a welcome and comfortable as possible when he was with them. Since Steve was the caused the bulk of Tony’s mixed emotions, the team’s protection manifested in his own bodyguards. 

All without his knowledge of course. Both because he was oblivious and his pride couldn’t afford another hit.

Steve hadn’t noticed at first. He had originally thought that it was Tony that was avoiding him—and rightfully so. The first few days following the fight, Steve had let the other man have his own space, following Nat’s orders and his own values. He had assumed Tony was doing the same. But when he thought things had cooled down a bit, Steve noticed that it was less Tony avoiding Steve, and more Tony being herded away by the others.

From the other end of the kitchen Steve watched as Tony’s face lit up with laughter at the current argument between Clint and Natasha.

“I did not make a pie,” Nat repeated, gesturing expressively with one hand, “for three reasons. One, because I do not have any pie ingredients. Two, because I don’t actually know how to make a pie.”

  
She paused, clearly waiting. Removing his bow (he had just come from a training session) and leaning it against the kitchen wall, Clint said warily, “And three?”

  
“Because I am not your bitch,” Nat said, clearly pleased with herself.

Clint rolled his eyes and groaned excessively. “Well I wouldn’t want to eat your stupid pie anyway!” he exclaimed, not unlike a pouting toddler. “I don’t even want whatever you’re cooking now!” 

“Now that’s just rude” Bruce chimed in. Mainly because he had been helping Nat cook the meal.

“If Nat knew how to cook, maybe I would eat," Clint muttered.

  
Nat froze, her spoon poised dangerously. "What did you say?"

  
Clint edged toward the fridge, staying out of her reach. "I said I'm going to look for a snack to eat."

  
"That's what I thought you said." Nat concluded, and turned her attention to the soup.

Tony and Rhodey had burst into laughter, and Steve added in his own chuckle. He wasn’t really listening to the conversation so much as paying attention to Tony, but he was trying not to show it too much. _He’s still so beautiful even after pain and torture and grief._ The mechanic had spun around on his chair and was reaching over to pick up Clint’s bow, when the archer saw what he was doing.

“Don’t touch any of my weapons without my permission!” Clint joked, knowing full well that Tony was the one who had designed the very thing, along with most of the gear the entire team used. 

Tony dramatically backed off, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “Well, there goes my plan for selling them all on eBay,” Tony complained. 

“Selling them on what?” Steve asked, confused at the foreign term.

  
Bruce smiled blandly at him. "A mythical place of great magical power.” Steve’s face held a puzzled expression. The others chuckled and Tony cracked a smile. For a single second, their eyes met and they held each other’s gaze. But just like that, the moment was gone and Tony had moved on to talking enthusiastically with Rhodey—swinging his hands this way and that, like a true Italian.

They had all entered a huge debate over whether Tony was worthy of Thor’s power since he had flown a jet with the hammer inside when Friday’s spoke. Everyone’s heads snapped up to ceiling, despite weeks of Tony telling them that only Clint resided in the ceilings.  “Boss, Director Fury is on his way up.” 

Everyone groaned and made jokes, but Steve noticed that Tony stayed quiet. His face grew paler. _He probably thinks that Fury is here about Iron Man,_ Steve thought to himself, knowing that wasn’t the case. Steve had actually reached out to Fury and warned him to keep quiet on the subject. He had learned that Tony was being far from selfish when he had given up the suit, and wanted Fury to know the same.

It was then that Fury told Steve about the vision Wanda had made Tony see. How Tony thought that he would be the cause of the Avenger’s destruction, and that he couldn’t do enough to save everyone. _It’s no wonder he built Ultron and Vision,_ Steve had thought to himself, ashamed at how he had been so quick to jump to conclusions.

Steve tried to give Tony a reassuring smile, but the other man was too consumed by worry to notice. The elevator opened and Fury walked in, dressed in his signature black attire. “I see I’m just in time for dinner!” he congratulated himself.

Clint piped up: “Don’t be too excited, Nat’s cooking. Ow!—” Clint rubbed his head where Nat had just hit him with a piece of broccoli thrown with the speed of a bullet. “That’s going to bruise…” he muttered to himself.

“Poor little Hawk Man” Thor boomed, clapping him on the back in support. Clint stumbled forward with the force. “And that’s going to bruise too” he winced as Thor winked at him.

Steve had noticed that with all the joking, Tony seemed to be relaxing, figuring that he would have already been singled out if he was the reason Fury was here. Steve let out a sigh, and turned his direction to Fury. “To what do we owe the pleasure, Director?" 

“I thought I’d come in person to give you your new orders,” he answered. The team’s faces showed hesitation, unsure if this meant a new problem had surfaced. Tony wasn’t sure how to react, as if he was just now realizing that he wouldn’t be able to go fight with his team if something was wrong. _It’s for the best,_ he reminded himself.

  
Steve stepped forward, “Is there a mission?” he asked, his tone becoming more official.

“No mission Captain, just a simple order from yours truly. Not unlike the order that placed you all in the tower together.”

“And that is?” Tony piped up. Not wanting to miss what was said this time around.

“Movie Night.”

“Yes!”

“Yeah, baby!” Rhodey and Clint jumped into the air in celebration and fist bumped. Everyone else just looked confused. Tony quirked one eyebrow up, signaling Fury to elaborate.

“It’s come to my attention,” he said, nodding at Clint and Rhodey, “That the team bonding I was trying to enforce when I moved you all into the tower, has not been occurring.” He eyed the scientists, “And instead you’ve been holed up in your labs, been off exploring” he turned to Thor and then Clint, “or beating each other up downstairs.” He turned to Nat and then Steve. For Nat, the words clearly meant spending too much time sparring in the gym, but for Steve it meant something else entirely.

It meant that Rhodey and Clint had told Fury about what Steve had done.

Steve gulped and looked at his shoes in shame. Fury nodded. “So,” he announced, “I’m enforcing dinner and a Movie Night at least twice a week so that you guys can learn some social skills and act like normal human beings—including you,” he interrupted Thor, who was surely about to mention how he was nothing like a petty human.

Rhodey and Clint were trying to hide the fact that they were thrilled by the idea, and failing. While the team just assumed they were overly excited about movies, the truth was that Rhodey had convinced Clint that some type of bonding exercise was needed so that Tony and Steve could start to feel comfortable around each other again. 

A Movie Night was perfect, Rhodey had explained, as it gave them a reason to be in the same room, but put no pressure on conversation. But if they wanted to talk at some point, they would be free to do so, and the team would be around to help if anything escalated. It took some convincing, but Rhodey had persevered and gotten him to agree. They had gone to pitch the idea to Fury the other day.

Rhodey looked smug in his triumph, not surprised that Fury had caved. After years of friendship with Tony, he had learned how to persuade even the most stubborn of men—a feat he was very proud of.  

The others just nodded their heads, still a little confused, but knowing that arguing with Fury would be pointless. And honestly, none of them were really opposed to the idea. Tony and Bruce both looked at each other with an unspoken exchange regarding how they would be losing time in the lab, but they nodded in agreement when they realized that if they slept during the movie they could be even more productive in the night.

So they all agreed, and Operation Movie Night was a go.

After dinner, the team disbanded to their own interests, they had decided they would implement the order the next week. So Rhodey and Steve stayed to clean up, Nat and Thor went to spar, and Clint disappeared out a window. The two science bros went up to Bruce’s lab to tinker with some highly explosive and not at-all-dangerous chemicals. 

They had worked into the early morning hours until it had become clear that if Bruce and Tony continued with their experiments much longer someone was going to lose a finger. So they both agreed to call it quits, and get some rest. Bruce went to his room, but Tony sneaked off to grab a cup of coffee, instead heading down to the lab, not quite ready to face his nightmares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this formatting better? It's more work, but there is less space between the lines this way. Let me know what you guys think!


	13. Puzzles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading and let me know what you think!

Tony was confused.

 

It wasn’t the first time, and it definitely wouldn’t be the last. Currently he was sitting in his lab, going out of his mind, and as usual, the cause was Steve, because the last week had the possibility to change everything, if only Tony could figure out what it all could mean.

 

As he had told Rhodey he would, Tony had forgiven Steve. He had never thought he wouldn’t be able to. Tony knew that the bigger challenge would be forgiving himself. But he couldn’t forget the past—he had spent too many years trying to.

 

It was as if certain events in our lives leave a permanent mark, freezing a piece of us in time that becomes a touchstone that we measure the rest of our lives against.

 

Yet despite Tony’s best efforts, Steve seemed as distant as ever. In the days after the fight Tony had wanted to reach out to him and let him know he was sorry. He wasn’t so screwed up that he thought Steve had no fault in the matter, but he wanted Steve to know that Tony forgave him, and had never intended to be selfish.

 

But the fact that Steve was avoiding him made everything more tricky. Sure, they had seen each other at meals and in the common room, but Steve always had himself surrounded by other people or kept to the opposite side of the room.

 

He knew that Steve was mad at him, but he had thought that maybe things could have changed. He had foolishly allowed himself to feel a glimmer of hope that time when he had emerged from his flashback in Steve’s arms, the soldier’s head on his, strong arms wrapped around him.

 

But Steve seemed like he’d rather forget that ever happened.

 

It hurt Tony every day, the absence of someone who was once there. But pain was an old friend of Tony’s, and he was a survivor. So he had fun with his team, despite the cold blue gaze that followed him everywhere. So he laughed and smiled at jokes, despite not seeing the one smile he really wanted to.

 

The trick was not to mind. Not to mind about it hurting. Not to mind about anything. It was a trick he had long since mastered.

 

But now, after the last week, Tony didn’t know what to think.

 

He struggled with trying to allow himself hope, and trying to smother it. It was cruel to give hope where none should be.It only turns into disappointment, resentment, anger— _all the things that make this life more difficult than it already is._  

 

But he had no idea what it could all mean. Steve ignoring him. Steve’s pictures. 

It had started when Tony had gone down to his lab late the other night, after he and Bruce had accidently exploded a beaker one time too many. At first he hadn’t noticed anything different. He had scanned the room as usual, taking in his various projects and trying to decide which to work on. Stretchy pants for Bruce, climbing gear for Clint; the new robot arm he was creating to lift Thor’s hammer. (If the arm could lift it, then Tony had decided that he would be worthy by default since he was the creator). Before he could decide, something out of place caught his eye.

He had walked over to the corner of his computer desk, intrigued by the piece of paper lying there. It was not something he recognized. When he’d got close enough to see what it was, his eyes went wide, and his lips parted in shock. He sat down, and slowly, almost afraid it could disappear, he had picked it up.

 

There, on the paper, was a carefully made drawing. A drawing of Tony.  In the arms of Steve.

 

It could have been a horrible image, one that reflected the anger and disappointment that had infected the workshop that day. But instead, Steve had managed to capture the few seconds of consolation and intimacy that Tony had felt in that moment, as he was lulled out of his nightmare by Steve’s reassuring touches and soft voice. It had been only a moment—just seconds—but Tony had felt it.

 

And maybe Steve had too.

 

The picture was just a light sketch of the lab and the men, but the pencil marks clearly showed how Steve had spent the most time on their intertwined figures. The detail was remarkable, and somehow Steve had brought to life the uncertainty of the whole moment, the possibility that it could end at any second or stay that way forever.

 

Tony’s eyes had floated to the bottom of the page where, next to Steve’s signature, was one word.

 

 _Hope_.

 

Tony couldn’t help but smirk. It was such a Captain America thing to write, both cheesy and virtuous.

Yet it summed up the picture quite nicely.

 

Tony hadn’t known how long he had stood there staring at the drawing, trying to decipher what it could mean. Between the oddly intimate picture and the cold shoulder he received from Steve, he was clueless as to what was going on. Eventually, Tony had fallen asleep staring at the picture.

 

Ever since, he had felt like a love-struck teenager picking petals off a flower. _He loves me, he loves me not._ And in the signature Tony Stark fashion, he ended on “not.” _Besides,_ he thought, _how would Steve have even gotten into my lab? Friday doesn’t take bribes._

It hadn’t crossed his mind that Rhodey could have helped Steve; or that Friday, like Rhodey (and Jarvis before her), only wanted Tony to be happy—and happy meant Steve and Tony no longer being idiots, or at least, being idiots together.

 

In the following week, Tony had received more pictures like the first. Some had Steve in them, some Tony was alone, and some showed the rest of the avengers. But they all featured warm, chocolate eyes and a scruffy goatee; they all featured Tony.

 

The pictures could have been the start of something wonderful—maybe they were—but Tony would never know, because Steve was still avoiding him. He was always separating himself from Tony by using the Avengers as a human shield. 

 

But deep down, he knew it wasn’t a cruel joke. No matter how he tried to shove the thoughts away, Tony truly believed that the pictures meant something. _They have to mean something,_ he silently pleaded.

Tony carefully placed the small collection of pictures he had accumulated in a drawer. Hiding them away where only he could find them—they were his moments to treasure, and a selfish part of him didn’t want to share them with anyone other than Steve. They seemed to be the only connection they had left.

 

Tony shut off the workshop’s lights and made his way upstairs; he hadn’t slept in almost two days, and his body was putting up a fight. He decided against another pot of coffee, instead making the responsible adult decision to go to bed.

 

It was a decision he would come to regret.

 

The nightmare was an avalanche of horror that night. In his dream Tony had chased after the Avengers, trying to catch up to them, trying to save them. From what, he didn’t know, but in the dream he had felt so much terror that he knew it was something bad. His pursuit kept changing, flashing between each member. He stumbled over his own feet, not agile enough to reach them.

 

An evil voice had whispered to him, invading his mind: “You’re not fast enough.” “You’re the reason they will die.” It was a voice he recognized. It was his voice. A distorted, evil imitation of Tony that taunted him and made him feel powerless.

 

He had woken up screaming. After he watched each of his friends die. After he had stared into their lifeless eyes.

 

Friday had switched the lights on and suggested waking Rhodey for assistance, an idea Tony promptly shut down. Chest heaving and limbs shaking, Tony got out of bed for his usual nightmare remedy routine: an ice cold shower and a journey upstairs for coffee. There wasn’t much he could do to chase away the lingering fear and fatigue, but he always tried his best.

He was still trying to escape his own mind when he entered the common room. When he saw Steve, and Steve saw him.

 

No Avenger bodyguards to be seen.


	14. Murder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't proof read this chapter because I am super tired, so if anything horrible happened just let me know. I almost wasn't going to post anything because I was so exhausted, but I didn't want to leave you with that huge cliffhanger.
> 
> Quick question though: Would you rather have shorter chapters everyday, or longer ones maybe every other day? (or does it not matter?)

_Maybe he doesn’t see me,_ Tony winced. He was currently testing out the theory that if he didn’t move, Steve might forget he was there. It wasn’t working based on the panicked expression on Steve’s face. _Well, shit,_ Tony concluded.

 

Tony and Steve’s stared at the walls, then at the floor, then at their feet, afraid to look at each other. Tony wanted to run. To do what he always does, always did, for the last month of his life. Escape, flee into the solitude. But this time, he stands his ground. _I'm tired of running._

 

Tony squeezed his eyes shut. There were moments in life, that would define the times to come. This was one of those moments. He saw himself joining Steve on the couch and talking through the night. He saw the start of a friendship, and maybe something more. _Brave thoughts,_ he opened his eyes, _but am I ready to follow through with them?_

Before he knew it, his feet had carried him to the end of the couch. He sat down and made himself small, squeezing as close to the edge as he could. Hoping that Steve couldn’t hear the pounding of his heart and not trusting his own voice, he waited for Steve to speak. And waited. And waited.

 

It’s not that Steve didn’t want to talk to Tony—he’d been dying to apologize, hear about his pictures, and more—but Steve was honestly concerned that the minute he opened his mouth to speak Clint would fall from the ceiling and pull Tony away in protection, or Nat would jump out of a cupboard and reprimand Steve for disobeying her instructions.

 

But Steve was remarkably good at giving orders, and particularly awful at following them. He took a deep breath and offered a courageous, “Hi.”

 

 “Hi,” Tony choked out, feeling like he was going to be sick. He forced himself to breathe. Silence consumed them both once more. Their eyes darted back and forth, sneaking glances at each other in courage and gazing at empty space in anxiety.

 

Steve watched as Tony’s leg began to bounce up and down. “Are you alright? You don’t look alright.” he asked before he could stop himself. _Stupid question, Steve._ He had meant it in a genuine way, concerned at the other man’s behavior and the fact that he was still up. _Of course he isn’t alright after everything I put him through._

 

Steve inwardly shrank, afraid that he had already screwed up and have to listen to Tony tell Steve how he was the problem. But Tony’s words held no anger, just lies. ““Nightmare,” he said quietly, still facing the wall.

 

“Me too.” Steve confessed, eyes clouded over.

 

Tony’s head snapped towards Steve, and finally they locked eyes. The mechanic’s expression held both concern and disbelief, torn between wanting to comfort the other man and uncertainty that someone as brave as Steve could have nightmares as well.

 

Hesitantly Steve offered more, “It was the ice. It’s always the ice.” His voice grew distant and faded, “I’m always frozen, watching my friends die. One by one. Helpless”. Silence filled the room again. This time, though, it was a comfortable one. One of understanding and respect.

 

It is hard to describe loss to someone who has never experienced it, impossible to explain all the ways it changes you. But for those who have, not a single word is needed.

 

Steve waited for Tony to share his own fear, but when he searched the other man’s expression he only saw torture and pain; a man still trapped in his nightmare. Though it took a while, eventually Tony’s words came: “I wonder if I will ever have the strength to hold onto something. Or if I will always be someone who destroys.”

 

Steve watched as Tony’s hands fiddle with the hem of his shirt, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of sharing his fears. He wanted to reach out and grab Tony’s hand and hold it, right over his own heart, right where it ached the most. Steve didn’t know if doing that would heal him or make his heart break entirely, but either way the constant hungry waiting would be over.

 

Steve summoned up all the courage he had in him, and reached out, pausing as Tony’s muscles tensed, his posture turning rigid and afraid. Steve slowed his movement, not wanting to cause the man more reason the fear, he put his hand on Tony’s, scooping it up in a warm embrace.

 

For a moment, Steve was holding the world. And for a moment, Tony was purely happy. Until he remembered his dream, how he had killed Steve and the team. He reluctantly pulled his hand away from Steve’s comfort. “I’m a murderer Steve,” he offered as an explanation.

 

“What?” Disbelief coursed through Steve’s veins, and he prayed he had misheard the man. A look into Tony’s eyes told him he had heard correctly.  “You are not a murderer Tony. That’s crazy.” Steve tried to scoot closer to Tony, to offer himself up in support, but the other man just shook his head in worry.

  
“If I’m not a murderer, then how come—” Tony’s voice broke off and he struggled to remain calm. “how come I keep killing people?”

 

Steve’s heart broke for Tony. “Tony you are the furthest thing from a murderer. Isn’t every hero aware of all the terrible reason they did those good deeds? Aware of every mistake they ever made and how good people got hurt because of their decisions? Don't they recall the moments they weren't heroic at all? The moments where their heroism led to more deaths than deliberate villainy ever could?”

 

“But I’m not a hero. I know that now.” As Tony said this, he didn’t look defeated or sad, but proud. _Like he is actually comforted by the fact that he thinks he is a villain._ Steve’s eyes widened, filled with sadness.

 

Tony mistook Steve’s compassionate look for one of pity. “I don’t need your pity Steve.”

 

“What do you need, Tony?” It was a genuine question. One that Steve would do anything to know the answer to.

 

The old replies come to Tony’s mind. _Sleep, coffee, a normal childhood, comfort._ But a different reply roared to life inside him, loud insistent and unwelcome. _You, Steve. I need you._ His heart clenched as he tried to smother the thought.

 

Abruptly, Steve stood up. Tony watched in confusion as Steve took a deep breath and nodded to himself with determination. He moved slowly, with so much caution and thought that Tony couldn’t be afraid.  Steve moved towards Tony and knelt in front of the suffering man. Tony found himself staring down into a the sea of Steve’s blue eyes.

 

Softly but with great conviction, Steve spoke. “Tony, I’m so sorry for everything I did to you. I was a stubborn idiot and I should have realized how much you meant to me. I know that now, and I am going to try my best to make it up to you. You’re worth it, with or without the suit.”

 

Tony clenched his jaw, twisting and turning as he looked for some way out of this. But there wasn’t one. Steve didn’t expect Tony to forgive him, _and I don't deserve it either_.

 

But Tony’s hand closes over Steve’s, holding on to the one person he desperately wants to be on his side.Tony at Steve with warm chocolate eyes, and the soldier melted inside. Steve was seeing a different side of Tony. A side that didn’t feel threatened. Steve liked that side, _That side is vulnerable and happy and kind._

Tony couldn’t find the words he needed to say. Not used to the kindness he was witnessing. Steve saw Tony’s struggle and offered up support: “You can just say thank you Tony, not everything needs an abundance of words.”

 

Tony suddenly pulled Steve into a hug

 

“Thank you," he whispered against Steve’s neck.

  
"How did that taste in your mouth?"

  
He laughed. "Awful.” 

 

It actually seemed like too little...or maybe too much to say, since Steve couldn't possibly understand how much Tony needed to hear what Steve had just said. How much Tony needed to know that even without the suit, he was someone worth knowing.


	15. Goodness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for everyone's patience and responses to my questions! You are all so wonderful! I know this story is a super slow burn, but we should be getting to some juicy parts somewhat soon (depending on if writer's block hits again...).
> 
> As always, please let me know what you think, I really love hearing everyone's thoughts!

Tony woke up in his room feeling extremely well-rested. There were two problems with that.

 

The first was that Tony was never well-rested. Sure, he slept—but only as much as he needed to. Since his dreams were plagued with reminders of his failures or his most horrifying life experiences, he didn’t exactly look forward to sleep. Yet somehow he had woken up feeling rejuvenated; his night had been nightmare free. In fact, Tony had slept through most of the day.

 

It was a miracle.

 

It was something he told himself not to get used to.

 

The second issue was even more troubling: he wasn’t exactly  sure how he had gotten to his room. He clearly remembered last night though: staying with Steve until the morning light had peaked over the horizon and lit the New York skyline with a warm pink glow. They had talked for hours about random things—favorite memories, embarrassing stories—until they had ended up just sitting together in a comfortable silence, watching the sun rise.

 

 _I must have fallen asleep,_ he thought uncertainly.It was quite a genius deduction.

 

But that would mean that Steve had been in his room and had picked him up and held him. That Tony had been so tired, so comfortable, that he hadn’t even stirred when Steve carried him in his arms.

 

 He wasn’t sure if the idea excited or terrified him.

 

Slowly, and thinking he might be dreaming, Tony made his way upstairs. The thought of coffee began to consume his thoughts. When he got upstairs, Clint and Nat were having yet another intense debate.

 

“Seriously, you don't like unicorns? What kind person doesn't like unicorns?” Clint looked emotionally distressed by Natasha’s revelation.”

 

“Well you don’t like zombies! What kind of a person doesn't like zombies? What have they ever done to you?”

  
“Zombies shamble. I disapprove of shambling. And they have bits that fall off. You never see a unicorn behaving that way.”

  
“I shamble. Bits fall off me all the time: hair, skin cells. Are you saying you disapprove of me?”

 

Nat looked at Clint with a very telling expression. “Clint, I’ve been disapproving of you for years—” Nat stopped what was sure to be a humorous roast of Clint when she saw Tony.

 

Clint turned around when he saw Nat’s change of behavior, and stood to greet Tony. “Hey man!”

 

Tony looked at him and blinked, too soon after waking up to function without coffee. He gave a lopsided smile to the both of them and mumbled a greeting. After downing a cup of coffee he regained his social skills.

 

Tony wanted to get his friend’s opinion on his nighttime talk with Steve. He didn’t know if he and Steve were on good terms now or if Steve would go back to ignoring him. “Clint, I need to talk to you. I had a weird night.”

 

Clint had other ideas: “Let me guess. Crazy dream? You got tied up by lady ninjas. With big hooters.” He spun out of Natasha’s reach as she swung to cuff him on his head.

 

“Uh, no.” Tony took a sip of coffee to hide his awkward expression.

 

Clint laughed, “Guess it would have been kind of weird if we’d had the same dream.”

Tony gave up trying to tell his true story and gave in to the insanity that was Clint Barton. He rolled his eyes. “Well you’d better not tell me anything else. Don’t ruin the surprise in case I have it tonight.”

 

The three were laughing and talking when Steve came in the room, drawn in by the beautiful sound of Tony’s laughter. Tony’s face lit up when he saw Steve, and Steve’s fell when he saw Clint and Nat. Steve greeted everyone and Clint moved closer to Tony, keeping himself as a shield between the two men.

 

Tony’s eyes followed Steve’s movements, and his chest tightened when he saw how Steve looked disappointed when he came in the room. How he was staying on the opposite side of the kitchen, not going near Tony and not talking to him. Tony quickly excused himself and went to the lab.

 

Nat called after him: “Don’t forget it’s movie night tonight!”

 

Tony waved his hand to let her know he heard her, and disappeared downstairs. All the while trying to figure out what the hell was going on with him and Steve. Thinking about it was making him tired—despite his restful sleep.

 

When he got to the lab, his heart stopped. There, on the corner of his desk was another gift from Steve. Another picture. But this time, it was different. It was so much better.

 

And yet so much worse.

 

Tony squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath, thinking that maybe this whole chain of events had been a dream, that there was no way this was real. His eyes shot open; no such luck. The photograph was still there, taunting him. He approached it hesitantly, afraid Steve might pop out of the shadows at any moment and ridicule him for Tony’s childhood fantasy.

 

There, sitting on his desk, was the photograph of young Tony in the Captain America costume. The photograph that had shattered when he had thrown it in desperate frustration. But now, there was no crack to be seen; now, the picture had been reframed. _I guess Steve really was in my room,_ Tony realized.

 

And Tony knew it was Steve. There was a chance that it could have been Rhodey’s doing as Tony knew that Rhodey had seen the picture when Tony was bundled up in a giant blanket having a mental breakdown. But this was clearly Steve’s doing.

 

Because tucked into the corner of the picture frame was a drawing. It showed Steve in his original uniform, his face bright and bold, with a slight smile. He was saluting young Tony dressed in the same outfit.

 

Once again, Steve had captured the moment perfectly. Though it was obviously fantasy, Tony could almost feel the honor and virtue seeping off the page. Steve had captured Tony perfectly: his younger self wasn’t grinning stupidly like the real photograph, but looked determined and eager, his small chin tilted upward in a look of nobility. His small arm raised and bent in a virtuous salute.

 

The art held such hope in it, that Tony almost had to look away—it was making tears form in his eyes and his mouth gape open. Though he was sure Steve knew the photograph was important to Tony, there was no way Steve could possibly understand what this meant to him. How badly he needed to have this kind of goodness back in his life.

 

Tony closed his eyes and thought of the warmth he had felt inside when he had hugged and held onto Steve last night. He remembered Steve avoiding him. He thought of the previous pictures he’d been given, and the way Steve had carried him to bed. But he felt the hurt of Steve ignoring him. Felt the pain and torture of not knowing how Steve felt.

 

Tony set the picture down calmly, looked around the room, and punched the wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ouch... that has to hurt...


	16. Shirt

Tony was nursing his damaged hand when Steve sprinted into the room, scaring Tony to death. He spun around in surprise and came face to face with a concerned look and a body glistening in sweat, fresh from the gym. Tony was stunned that Steve could look so concerned and so disappointed at the same time.

 

“What the hell Tony?” Steve’s eyes went wide as he put together the bleeding hand, and the smudges on the wall. Tony thought he looked more concerned than the situation called for.

 

“How the hell did you get in here?” Tony was more concerned by the breach in security.

 

“Friday told me there was an emergency!”

 

“What the hell Friday?”

 

Friday’s voice sounded out: “Sorry boss, Rhodey changed my protocols to notify Steve of any emergency before he returned to duty.” She conveniently left out the fact that she knew it wasn’t an emergency.

 

“What the hell Rhodey!” He made a mental note to send him a strongly worded text.

 

But then he realized who was in the room: “Oh, um. Sorry Cap, that was probably a foul language overload for you.”

 

Steve was too concerned about Tony to care about his awful joke. He had picked up Tony’s hand and was cradling it. The mechanic could have cared less about the shot of pain that occurred when Steve had moved his hand; he was too busy reminding himself to breathe. His heart was fluttering and his face growing redder by the second.

 

“Is this the part where you start tearing off strips of your shirt to bind my wounds?" Tony tried to diffuse the situation, but it only led him to think about Steve’s tight shirt that formed perfectly around the man’s muscles.

 

Steve looked up from where his head had been bent looking at Tony’s hand. A slight blush appeared on his cheeks but he tried to play it cool, "If you wanted me to rip my clothes off, you should have just asked.”

 

Tony made a choking sound and Steve stopped breathing, not sure what had just come out of his mouth. The soldier scolded himself: _Where the hell did that come from Rogers? What about that means playing it cool?_ Leave it to Steve Rogers to be the only man who could flirt the one time he wasn’t trying to.

 

Steve realized he was still holding Tony’s hand, and he quickly dropped it. He ran his other hand through his hair, unsure what else to do. Just when he thought things couldn’t get any more awkward Tony spoke up.

 

“You found my picture?” Tony tried to say, but in his vulnerability he mumbled and it sounded more like, “You f-…m’eh picture?”

Steve caught Tony’s last word and looked to the table where the pictures were. His face grew hopeful, “Did you like it?”

  
Tony nodded quickly, wanting Steve to know how much he appreciated it. But instead of saying yes, he blurted out: “Why’d you do it?”

 

Steve looked at down at his shoes, not exactly sure how to respond. “No reason,” he lied. Tony’s face fell and he rubbed his left arm awkwardly.

 

 _Idiotic reply. Steve, t_ he soldier mentally kicked himself yet again. _Why don’t you just punch him in the face while you’re at it._ Steve became even more flustered when he realized that he has actually hit Tony in the face before. _Very romantic._

He didn’t know if the situation could get worse, so Steve tried again: “You we’re so cute in the little uniform I thought it was worthy of a Captain’s salute,” he tried to explain.

 

Tony was torn between telling Steve the truth about the picture or letting the whole thing go. The truth was certainly not the easy option, but Tony was never one to shy away from a challenge. “My father never stopped searching for you after you went down. Never.” Steve’s eyebrows went up and his mouth parted.

 

Tony continued, “He’d tell me stories about you all the time, so I grew up, well…” his voice trailed off and he gestured to picture as if it could explain Tony’s obsession. After a pause Tony carried on, “I know… I know that he loved me. But..” he swallowed hard, not wanting to hear what he had been thinking for years said out loud. “But he loved a lot of things much more than me.”

 

Steve nodded silently. He had heard how Tony’s childhood had been rough, but he hadn’t ever started to believe it until now, until he saw the haunting look in Tony’s eyes. He realized that the simple drawing had probably meant a lot more to Tony than had thought. “You were a child. A normal child, Tony. And that was taken from you.”

 

“I spent my life living in the shadow of my father's decisions, good and bad. I don't expect that to change now that he's dead.” Tony shrugged and the act of acceptance broke Steve’s heart.

 

“I’m sorry” he wish he had more meaningful words than apologizing for something out of his control.

 

“Could be worse.”

  
“Could be better.”

  
“It always could.” 

 

Suddenly Tony found himself enveloped in a quick hug. One second he was wrapped in Steve’s strong arms, the next Steve had backed away, hand in his gym short pockets, looking both embarrassed and pleased with himself.

 

Tony looked at Steve and struggled with his emotions. Tony needed to tell him… _what?_ That he was lovely and brave and better than anything Steve deserved. That he was twisted, crooked, wrong, but not so broken that he couldn't pull himself together into some semblance of a man for him.

 

That without meaning to, Tony had begun to lean on him, to look for him, to need him near.

 

But Tony was not ready for a confession like that so instead he forced a laugh. Steve’s posture relaxed a bit with the sound. Tony spoke up, “it’s movie night Cap, let’s forget about my stupid hand and just go upstairs.”

 

They made their way to the exit, sneaking glances at each other. On the stairs, Steve broke into a sheepish grin, “We just had another moment, didn’t we?”

 

Tony hit him on the shoulder with his good hand. “If by moment, you mean me not wanting to strangle you for the first time since we met, then I guess we are.”

 

Steve scoffed in mock offense, and bounded up the stairs, a huge grin lighting up his face.


	17. Perfect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for waiting everyone! Not sure how I feel about this chapter but I needed it to set up the next ones. Leave your thoughts, and thanks you for reading!

Steve had ran in front of Tony for two distinct reasons. The first being the fact that his face was so red he didn’t want Tony to see, and the second being the depressing notion that the team still thought he was a danger to Tony.

 

But Steve couldn’t blame them, so he tried to respect their wishes.

 

When he arrived upstairs, Bruce and Thor were in the kitchen making a pot of coffee and popcorn, Nat was on the couch, and Clint had yet to arrive. Steve knew better than to comment on the fact that it was way too late for coffee, and instead he poured a cup for Tony.

 

He sat down on the couch and in a few seconds Tony joined them all. He grabbed the cup of coffee on the counter and sat down next to Steve. Though Nat wasn’t looking directly at them, her eyebrows quirked up with intrigue. Steve held his breath, wondering if she would say anything, but she just turned her attention to the pillow fort that Thor had begun to make.

  
Steve was all too aware of how close Tony had sat next to him. They weren’t touching by any means, but there was only a foot between them—a dramatic improvement from the last time he and Tony had sat on the couch; when Tony had secluded himself on the opposite end, far away from Steve.

 

Tony had seen where Steve was and, like a true scientist, he wanted to experiment. He and Steve had just been together, talking and being awkward, but he hadn’t forgotten how the super soldier had been avoiding him when others were around.

 

Naturally, he wanted to see what Steve would do if he sat down right next to him—or at least as close to him as his nervous mind would allow. Tony glanced at Steve, who was somehow managing to look both stressed and happy. Eventually, they both relaxed and Tony began to think of different ways he could get Steve to blush during the movie.

 

But his daydream was cut short when Clint Barton vaulted over the couch from behind them and wiggled in between the two men, fitting himself in a space half his size.

 

Tony barely stopped himself from shouting out in protest, and instead laughed it off and scooted over.

 

Tony didn’t even notice when the movie started or what was playing; instead, his thoughts were centered on Steve. Though it had been irritating to have Clint separate Tony and Steve, it had sparked a thought in Tony’s mind.

 

An idea that maybe it was the Avengers separating Steve and himself rather than Steve avoiding him.

 

 _But that’s crazy,_ Tony scoffed at the theory. He felt foolish for even thinking it, because it would imply that Steve had wanted to spend time with him and but just hadn’t been able to. Rather than focusing on how Steve blushed around Tony, had held his hand, and drew him countless pictures, Tony gave in to doubt.

 

He convinced himself that he had imagined Steve’s blushing face, that Steve had held Tony’s hand only because Friday had told him it was an emergency, and that the pictures were meaningless. While part of him knew Steve had carefully crafted each picture out of the kindness in his heart, Tony persuaded himself that the pictures were made out of debt. That Steve had felt obliged to apologize to Tony for some reason, and art was the way he chose.

 

It wasn’t that Tony wanted to believe this, but deep in his heart, he wasn't sure he deserved to be happy, nor did he believe that he was worthy of someone who seemed so good. He had been around suffering and pain so much that he had grown accustomed to the taste.

 

He was so used to no one ever giving him kindness without wanting something in exchange. _Was Steve any different? Was he the same as everyone else?_ Doubt flooded Tony’s mind. _They all want to use you, use you, use you until they get what they want, and then they will toss you aside._

 

He loved Steve, he was sure of it, _but_ _it was better to have an enemy who would fight you in an open field, then a lover who would kill you in your sleep._

 

The small, hopeful part of him that had somehow survived his years of agony and disappointment knew that he was making no sense. He had always knew that loving Steve was dangerous, that it would only lead to heart ache, but he had always thought it was worth it. And he knew he was letting his insecurities spin illusions around the truth. But for maybe the first time in his life, Tony was truly afraid.

 

And fear created the strongest illusions.

 

Rather than risk feeling his heart get torn wide open, Tony shielded it in stone. He didn’t think he’d have the willpower to fix himself yet again. He stood up abruptly and walked out of the room, movie be damned. He couldn’t take being that close to Steve anymore.

_You’d better hide that heart of yours,_ he warned himself. _It won't lead you anywhere you want to go._

Steve watched as Tony walked out of the room sharply, and he immediately knew that something was wrong. For a moment, he hesitated. He thought about how things would always be complicated with Tony, and how he could spend the rest of his life chasing after a perfect dream that he would never get.

 

But Steve didn’t want perfect.

 

He wanted hesitant vulnerabilities and nerve-racking conversations. He wanted lopsided smiles and mischievous looks. He wanted the man who gave up a part of himself for others; he wanted the boy who did everything for his dad.

 

He wanted Tony.

 

Steve got up and chased after the man he loved. 


	18. Sorry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next chapter! Thank's for reading, and hopefully the pace will start to pick up!

Tony wanted to punch something.

 

It was problematic because in the gym, all of the punching bags were split open and lying on the floor; plus, his hand was already hurt. Tony cursed himself for not figuring out a super-strength gym solution for Steve.

 

_Steve._

Tony winced. He wished desperately that he could stop loving that man and ease the uncertainty and heartache that accompanied it. But love didn’t end all at once, no matter how much he needed it to, or how inconvenient it was. Tony couldn’t command love to stop any more than a father could order it to disappear.

 

Maybe love had to bleed away a drop at a time until the heart was numb and cold and mostly dead.

 

He reached for tape so he could wrap his hands. He figured without the punching bags he might as well just hit the wall again—broken fingers be damned. Yet his brilliant plan was interrupted:

 

“Tony please tell me you’re not about to do what I think you are.” Steve’s disapproving voice bounced off the gym’s walls.

 

“Anything worth doing starts off with risk and a bad idea, Cap.” Slowly, Tony turned around to face Steve, gathering his courage and strength as he moved. Shooting the man a lopsided grin, Tony desperately hoped the conversation would end quickly.

 

Steve rolled his eyes, “I don’t think punching a wall with your hurt hand is the right type of risk, Tony.”

 

Tony noddedhis head in concession, it wasn’t exactly the best idea he’d had lately—but then again, he never thought clearly when it came to Steve. “Fine, Cap. I won’t punch the wall.” He set down the roll of tape and gestured toward the exit: “You can leave now.”  
  


“No.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“No.”  Steve crossed his arms defiantly. “I’m not going anywhere, Tony.” He was here to stay. To make Tony see how much Steve wanted to be here for him through it all “I’m not leaving you again.” Steve meant every word, but Tony looked at him with a mixture of anxiety and confusion.

 

Steve took a step towards him, and continued: “This is me facing failure. This is me putting everything on the line even though I know I might lose. And I'm terrified. But like you said, anything worth having is worth the risk.”

 

Tony’s dark chocolate eyes went wide in shock and then squinted in uncertainty as he tried to determine if he could trust Steve. If he could trust his own heart.

 

Steve’s eyes wander up and down Tony’s face. _He has never looked more beautiful than he does now, unadorned and honest, vulnerable yet strong,_ Steve tells himself, wishing he had the courage to say it out loud. _There is something about his eyes,_ Steve noticed. _Eyes don’t breathe. I know that much. But his look breathless._

 

Tony started to approach Steve, then turned and walked back, shuffling around like a caged animal. Steve’s eyes followed Tony with apprehension. Steve had as good as declared that what he wanted to have was Tony, but the brunette looked like he was trapped in his own mind, struggling with his own demons.

 

“You don’t need to suffer in silence Tony, I can help you.”

 

 _That’s my life Cap,_ Tony’s thoughts were bitter, _screaming without making a sound._ Still, he stayed silent and instead watched as Steve clasped his hands nervously and then ran his fingers through his hair.

 

The fact that Steve might be as nervous as Tony was, eased his anxieties. It’s like there was a certain amount of stress appointed to every situation and Tony was used to being responsible for carrying it all by himself. _It’s nice to share it with someone for a change,_ he thought to himself.

 

But he thought anxiety was the only emotion he shared with Steve right now. “I don’t want your pity Steve.” Tony tried to sound certain and forceful, but it came out as a tired admission instead.

 

Steve responded with a question: “What do you want, Tony?”

 

The old answers come to Tony’s mind: _Sleep. Pepper. A normal childhood._ But a different reply roared to life inside him, one that was loud insistent and unwelcome. _You, Steve. You._ Tony stopped his pacing, shrugged and turned away. “I’m not sure.”

 

“Do you ever answer a question directly?”

 

“Hard to say. Ah, there, I’ve done it again.” He raised his hands in a faux apology and spun around quickly to face Steve. As always, feeling more comfortable with a layer of sarcasm protecting him.

 

But Steve wasn’t amused. “You think you can keep me out, Tony, that you can get me to leave, but it does not matter how many locks you hang on your heart. There is always another way in.”

 

Steve stepped toward Tony, bearing his soul to the man he loved. “When are you going to realize that you don’t have to face everything by yourself? You aren’t the only one who has struggles: we both have a war inside us. Sometimes it keeps us alive. Sometimes it threatens to destroy us, but we can fight it together, Tony. Please let me help you fight.”

 

Steve was at an arm’s distance from Tony and the mechanic could see the pain in his eyes, the raw emotion that was threatening to erupt. But in a last attempt to stay afloat, he turned away. “I’m fine,  Cap.”

 

Steve shook his head. “I don't like the words 'I'm fine'. Growing up my mom used to tell me that those two words are the most-frequently-told lie in the English language.”

 

That was what cracked through Tony’s defenses. Not the tears in Steve’s eyes, or the pleading tone of his voice. Not the way Steve had chased after him and told him he was here to stay.

 

No.

 

It was the fact that this genetically-engineered-super-soldier, this invincible, perfect man, was quoting his mom. It was the reminder that Tony’s childhood idol had lost his parents to time too.

 

Tony raised his head to look up at Steve, his dark eyes peeking out from underneath long lashes. He was afraid his voice was going to break. He was afraid Steve was going to hear how much this hurt: “You’re right, I’m not fine. I’m not strong. I’m weak, and I’m tired of pretending I’m not.”

Steve tentatively reached out with his arms to embrace him, but Tony stepped back instinctively, unsure how to handle the gesture of affection. Tony’s breathing hitched and tears slid down his cheeks. Steve was undeterred and wrapped the man in a bear hug.“I’m so sorry,” Tony’s muffled voice called out from within the embrace.

 

Steve leaned back and gripped both of Tony’s shoulders. The man was still mumbling ‘I’m sorry’ when Steve spoke: “You don’t need to be sorry for anything. You are everything to me, and I won’t leave you behind again. I want to be everything for you too.”

 

Tony shook his head and sniffed his tears away, “ _That’s_ why I’m sorry. You already are everything to me, Steve. And I’m sorry because you shouldn’t haveto be.” Tony’s voice was growing stronger as he pushed away his momentary weakness. “I had you, but I’d forgotten that I had myself too. It’s a new feeling, something I was trying to get used to when I gave up the suit. I was trying to fix myself.”

 

Steve saw there was a conflicted look in Tony’s eyes, a joy and a grief, that makes him look so vulnerable. He suddenly realized how little defense Tony had against his words. _He loves so wholly. It is his nature._ Warmth crept up Steve’s neck.

 

“I understand—” Steve started to explain how Tony didn’t owe him an explanation, that he knew now, how he had completely overreacted and been a tyrant. But Tony wasn’t finished speaking.

 

“Do you ever feel like you do something or are something for so long that it defines you?”

 

“Like wearing a star-spangled-onesie your whole life?” Steve fired back sarcastically and watched as the comment made Tony feel a little more at home, giving him the strength to continue.

 

“There was so much death. So much pain, hurt, destruction.” He spit out each word as if he hated even the sound they made. “Iron Man was at the center of it. So I fixed it. I got rid of the problem, and then I tried to start fixing myself.” Tony paused and took a deep breath. “I thought it would make you proud.”

 

Shame and understanding flooded Steve’s mind, and he watched as Tony took a step back and sat down on a bench. “I guess I will always be darkness” he said softly, his eyes reflecting only shattered hope.

 

Steve looked at the man before him and saw only bravery, selflessness and strength. He saw the man who had given up everything for others, the man who trusted him with his own vulnerabilities. He saw a mechanic and a hot-shot; a dreamer and a thinker.

 

But what he didn’t see was darkness.

 

Steve sat down next to Tony and met his gaze, smiling softly. “You are so full of light, Tony. And no one is a saint. I have seen your flaws, yes, and I feel your struggle. You saw mine when I thought the worst of you for doing something heroic.” Steve touched Tony’s chin with one hand, “But you are also passionate and ambitious and loyal.”

 

At this gesture, Tony’s doubts seemed to settle, his dark thoughts pushed to where he can’t hear them. Steve’s other hand reached out and wrapped around Tony’s. “You are a thousand things, Tony Stark, not just one. Do not reduce yourself to something so simple.”

 

Tony held Steve’s gaze, a thousand thoughts pouring into his head, but only one rose to the top. One fueled by passion and courage; desire and need. In a moment of bravery, Tony pulled Steve toward him.

 

When their lips touch, he tried desperately not to audibly sigh. He couldn’t help it though, and Steve chuckled against his mouth. His lips were warm and soft - his hand brushed against Tony’s face.

 

Somewhere in the back of his mind Tony still wondered if they were right for each other, but for once, the rest of his mind didn’t seem to care.


	19. Sun Shining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, I've been trying to figure out where I want this story to go, and I think I figured it out. As always, thanks for reading!

Tony bounded up the stairs with an unusual amount of energy, a large grin splayed across his face. He hadn’t slept that night, opting instead to stay awake and work in his lab, yet he was so lively it seemed like he’d finally caught up on all his lost sleep. Tony had no headphones on, but he acted like the day was set to some upbeat music, his steps were light, his movements almost graceful.

 

Maybe there was music. Maybe, with a kiss, Tony had gone from a one man show, to a two part symphony.

 

The fact that New York was in the middle of a thunderstorm couldn’t bring Tony down and when he reached the common room, his mood immediately startled those that were there too. Nat’s eyes were wide as Tony poured her a cup of coffee and Bruce almost choked as he watched Tony crack a few eggs to make an omelet.

 

They absolutely lost it when he started to hum.

 

“What is with you today?” Clint grabbed Tony by the shoulders and shoved his face close to Tony’s, looking for any indicators that this could be a fake Tony. Clint’s eyes were still swollen from sleep and his messy hair formed a fuzzy halo around his face.

 

“Oh, you know,” Tony says, pushing Clint away and grabbing a bite of omelet, “Sun shining. Birds chirping.”

 

Nat raised an eyebrow at Tony, as if reminding him that the sky was black with rainclouds and thunder was booming through the city. In response, Tony raised his mug of coffee towards her and then took a huge gulp.

 

Steve walked into the room, took one look at the peculiar situation of everyone examining Tony, and immediately turned to leave. He didn’t exactly feel like sharing with the whole tower how he and Tony had kissed.

 

Right as he turned to leave Tony announced that he was going back to the lab. Before he knew what he was doing, Steve had opened his mouth: “Can I come with you?”

 

A quick moment of silence, featuring a room full of people with wide eyes and opened mouth, followed Steve’s question. Tony tried to hide his surprise and gave a short nod, “Sure thing, Cap.”

 

They both made for the exit and Clint popped up out of his seat to reprimand Steve. He still didn’t trust the man to be around Tony—not after how Steve had made Tony feel worthless. Yet before the assassin could take a step, Nat’s arm was on his shoulder in a gentle warning. She shook her head no and gestured towards Tony and Steve.

 

They all watched as Steve let Tony through the doorway first, a hand placed gently on the small of Tony’s back. A sweet and protective gesture. “He’s in good hands,” Nat told the two men, and turned back towards her breakfast.

 

When Tony and Steve got downstairs, Tony had an abundance of words: “So, uh, not much for you to see here. I was just going to work on perfecting this technique of making glass. It’s nothing special or anything. I just thought that if I could find a cheaper way to manufacture it more people would have it available to them. I was thinking that if I decrease the lateral flux between the capacitor conductive components in a single metal layer I’d be increasing the capacitance per unit area and decreasing the bottom-plate parasitic capacitance.”

 

Tony’s face flushed when he realized he was rambling and Steve was staring at him like he was speaking a different language. He rubbed his neck nervously and tried again: “It’s a densely layered ballistic glass, laminated onto a shield of resilient polycarbonate that uhh..” Steve had a smile on his face but his eyebrows were furrowed as he tried to follow Tony.

 

The mechanic took a deep breath. “It…That, um, that means bulletproof.” He smiled weakly, “I’m making bulletproof glass cheaper and safer.”

 

Tony was about to apologize when Steve cut in. “Wow, Tony that’s pretty neat. I’m not sure I understand what a lateral flux is though, but I could listen to you talk like that all day.” Steve walked over to the couch and sat down, pulling out a small sketchbook from his pocket.

 

“If only I could have talked to girls the way you talk equations.” Steve sighed and pulled out a pen.

  
There was a long silence, and then, eyes trained on the bench where they’d kissed, Tony said, “Just girls?”

 

Steve chuckled as a reply, but when he got no further response from Tony, Steve spoke up: “You know the answer to that, Tony.” He walked towards Tony until he was less than a foot away. The air was charged with electricity. Still, the mechanic looked uncertain.

 

“Tony?”

  
“Yes?”

  
“You look terrified. Does this scare you?”

  
“More than anything.”

  
“Why?”

  
“Because I didn’t bring my mints.”

  
“And now the real answer . . .”

“Because I’m afraid that once you catch me, the game’s over.”

 

Steve ran his hand along Tony’s jawline and tilted his chin up so they were looking directly into each other’s eyes. “This isn’t a game, Tony. This is real.”

 

For a moment, as they stared into each other’s eyes, everything else melted away. Tony studied Steve’s expression, seeking sincerity and finding it. Tony’s eyes were bright with life and fire and Steve knows Tony won’t stop fighting. Even if it’s the fight on the inside that you can’t always see.

 

_And I won’t stop fighting either._

 

Then Tony gave Steve a smile that just seemed so genuinely sweet with just the right touch of shyness that unexpected warmth rushes through him. Suddenly, he couldn’t control himself anymore and Steve slid his hand over Tony’s cheek, one finger anchored behind his ear. Then he dipped his head down and kissed him, sending a warm ache through Tony’s body.

 

Tony wrapped his hands around Steve’s arm, holding him there as long as he can. When Steve touches him, the hollowed-out feeling in his chest and stomach that always seemed to be present was not as noticeable. 

 

They parted for a brief moment, breath ragged and eyes wild. In another moment Steve kissed Tony again, more insistent this time. Tony’s breath’s, Steve’s body, his own body; they are so close there is no difference. Steve’s hands slid along Tony’s frame and squeezed his waist, then moved upward and danced along his chest. Steve pushed on Tony's chest, wanting to move him towards a desk to get more leverage. 

 

And suddenly, the moment was over. There was only pain.


	20. The Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters tonight since I'm going to be away from the computer for a while. Not sure if this is the end of the story, but it's an end for right now. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it!

Tony tore away from the kiss with a cry of pain and stumbled backward, his hand on his chest where Steve’s had been. Where the shield had left tender bruising and an ugly scar. His eyes were still alight with passion, lips red from kissing, but his face was twisted in pain and discomfort. Steve’s mouth was open and he was breathing heavily, his heart was racing and he could still feel the warmth of where Tony’s hands had been touching him. He watched in confusion as Tony gently rubbed at his chest.

 

“Tony, what’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” Steve was as panicked as Tony, and he kept fidgeting, uncertain what to do.

 

“I’m fine Steve.”

 

“You’re lying.”

 

Tony couldn’t argue with that, because he was lying. The pain that he had felt when Steve had pushed against his injury had made everything seem more real. It became clear to Tony that he was kissing a man who had hurt him. That wasn’t the problem though, crazy as it seems; Tony didn’t exactly blame Steve for his chest. The fight had been a hell storm that no one had truly been in control of.

 

Besides, Tony knew that if Steve wasn’t genetically enhanced, he’d have his own share of scars and bruises to remind him of being punched and kicked by the Iron Man suit. That was the real problem, the one that was consuming Tony’s hope and seeping deep into his heart.

 

That Tony had an ugly reminder of the hate they had felt for each other. A permanent scar that marked the place where a friendship had been shattered and a heart had been broken. And even though Tony had forgiven Steve, even though Steve had done nothing but try to make up for it since, he didn’t know how Steve would react if he saw Tony’s chest, if he saw the true extent of their battle.

 

If Steve saw how ugly Tony felt on the inside.

 

Tony was a master of disguise, a man with many faces that hid his insecurities and problems beneath a tough outer shell of sarcasm, high-tech gear, and wit. He was strong and brave, yes, but it didn’t change the fact that he was hurting on the inside. And Tony felt that if Steve saw his chest, he’d be giving him a window to his pain. Steve would see the years of pain that Tony hid so carefully.

 

Maybe one day, he would tell Steve how his father had rarely shown him affection. Maybe one day, he would tell Steve how creating Ultron had been in effort to save those he loved. Maybe one day, he’d tell Steve how, when Pepper had left, she’d taken a part of him with her. How Wanda’s vison still hung over his head. How he didn’t feel like a true part of the team.

 

Maybe one day.

 

It wasn’t like he wasn’t trying. He had opened up a bit about giving up the suit, and he’d never forget that he was the one to pull Steve into the kiss. But when someone knows your story they know you. And they can hurt you. It's why he gives his away in pieces, even to Steve.

Even to the man who he loved so wholly and genuinely. Love was illogical, love had consequences – _I did this to myself, and I should be able to take it._

 

“Talk to me, Tony” Steve’s voice jolted Tony out of his muddled thoughts and he looked down at his shoes and then his watch, anything to avoid Steve’s concerned, ocean blue eyes. If Tony looked directly at him, he’d be lost at sea forever.

 

“After a lifetime of darkness you deserve some light, Tony. You deserve to be happy.” Tony felt a hand on his back and for a moment, he leaned into it, thinking about the warmth and tenderness that it signified. But he pulled away.

 

He didn’t want his emotions to rule him, no matter how much they screamed for him to be with Steve.Feelings were costly, and Tony didn’t want Steve to have to see the damage he had caused. Tony didn’t want to cause anyone anymore pain.

 

“I can’t do this, Steve. I just can’t.”

 

Steve held so much grief in his voice when he spoke: “Can one mistake really destroy a lifetime together?” The question hung in the air, both men afraid of the answer.

 

“No!” Tony almost shouted, his instincts overcoming his doubts. “ _I'm the kind of person who does **not** let inconsequential things like boys and near death experiences stop him,” _Tony told himself courageously.

 

Tony realized he must have said it out loud, because Steve’s face had visibly paled. “Near death experiences?” he questioned weakly, feeling nauseous because some part of him knew what Tony was referencing.

 

 _Shit._ Tony rubbed his left arm uncomfortably. “Sorry, um…I’m – sorry. I didn’t mean that…” His words were choked out between gulps of air. Tears began to blur his vision. He wasn’t really sure why he was starting to cry, but part of him was breaking inside. He was torn between telling Steve the truth, and maintaining the façade.

 

Keeping the pain to himself, or sharing the burden.

 

It turns out, it was a decision Steve made for him. The soldier grabbed Tony’s hands and held them in his own. His eyes held just the right amount of hardness and empathy that they captured Tony’s gaze. And just like the mechanic had feared, he became lost in the blue of Steve’s eyes.

 

Tony tried one last ditch effort to push past Steve.

 

It was a mistake.

 

Steve put his hand out to stop Tony and the opposing force collided with Tony’s chest. The mechanic cried out in pain and curled his arms protectively around his chest. “Fuck!” he cried out.

 

Steve bit his tongue, trying not to reprimand Tony for his foul language. It wasn’t hard since he was overwhelmed with concern for the man.

 

“Tony tell me what is wrong with your chest now.” Steve spoke in his best Captain America voice. It was a cold move, Tony couldn’t resist following the man’s orders when he spoke like that. It took him back to his childhood idolization.

 

“Take off your shirt.” Steve ordered him.

 

Tony raised an eyebrow and couldn’t help but smirk, despite being insecure, maybe he could make Steve so uncomfortable he could flirt his way out of this.

 

“I’m not going to attack you,” Steve said impatiently. “I can take the sight of your naked chest without swooning.”

 

“Are you sure?” Tony asked, “Watching me play Scrabble is enough to make most women swoon. Imagine if I actually put in some effort.” Steve was bewildered and Tony shrugged like he couldn’t help himself. “Viewing my naked chest has caused many men and women to seriously injure themselves stampeding to get to me.”

 

Steve wasn’t amused, and Tony gave up his struggle. If Steve wanted to see what was wrong then fine. Tony had tried to protect Steve from discovering the truth but since when did his plans ever work out? He gingerly pulled off his Metallica T-shirt, revealing the nasty slash of mottled purple and green bruises.

 

Steve gasped as understanding flooded his mind. Across Tony’s chest was a nasty slash of purple mottled with black and blotches blues and greens. The horrid welt surrounded an equally terrifying scar. A scar in the shape of his shield.

 

“I did this to you?” Steve croaked out, tears brimmed in his eyes. Tony just looked at him and nodded. “Heavy silence followed and eventually Tony took pity on the soldier. “I’m fine Steve.”

 

“I’m so sorry Tony. I’m so sorry.”

 

“I forgive you Steve. And I forgive Bucky too. None of us were thinking straight, and I’m fine now. I’m not broken easily.”

 

Tony looked up defiantly, like he was in a battle: him against the world. “I will never break.”

 

Steve’s eyes focused on Tony as if truly seeing him for the first time. The man that he had bruised, beaten, and betrayed had just told him that all was forgiven. No grudges held. And Steve didn’t know how he had missed it before:

 

This was the true Tony Stark. Not an arrogant narcissist—at least not all the time, no. But someone who lived for other people. Someone who created in order to serve. Someone who hid his own pain so that others could experience joy.

 

“I see you Tony. I see you, and I’m never letting you go.”

 

Steve pulled Tony toward him and they kissed again. This time, it feels familiar. Tony knew exactly how they fit together, Steve’s arm around his waist, his hands on Steve’s chest, the pressure of Steve’s lips on his.

 

They already have each other memorized. And it was just the beginning.


End file.
